


The Opportunist

by Ginger_Sutherland



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 28,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginger_Sutherland/pseuds/Ginger_Sutherland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A demon possesses Sam and does very bad things. Castiel arrives to help the Winchesters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "The Opportunist" is just the working title, but I might keep it. The story doesn't fit in the canon timeline. First time posting fanfic anywhere, so pointers would be appreciated.

Setting: Saint Paul, MN. Night. Inside a hotel room. Two full-sized beds. Small bathroom with tub-shower. Sinks in the main room opposite the door. Entertainment system opposite the beds. Microwave. Mini fridge. Safe. Nightstands. Small table and two chairs next to it closer to the door and window.

Dean pushed open the door, carrying his duffel. Sam followed behind, a bloodstained, ragged shirt pressed against his chest. Dean tossed his duffel down on the far bed.

“You sit down, I’ll go back and get your stuff. Keep pressure on that,” Dean pointed at Sam.

“Yeah, I know Dean.”

“I’m just sayin’.”

Sam rolled his eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed as Dean exited to get his stuff and the first aid kit. He looked down and cautiously pulled the shirt away from the deep scratches on his pec. The bleeding had slowed, but the shirt dislodged a clot. The key card fwipped as Dean returned.

“They’re not that deep, just long. I don’t think I need stitches.”

“Garth says it’s not poisonous, but we better scrub it good. I doubt the Toff cleaned under his fingernails. I fucking reek from that dump.”

Dean went to the sink and scrubbed.

Sam made a face, “I’m not sure my nose will ever be the same again. I think I know why Toffs are solitary.”

Dean kicked a chair out from the table, “Come over here, I don’t want you bleeding all over the bedding.” Dean organized the first aid kit and sat opposite him.

Sam lowered himself into the chair with a grunt. His legs ached from running. “Next time, you be bait.”

“Hey, Gigantor, you’ve got longer legs and you jog every morning for fun. You practically signed up for the part.”

Dean carefully pulled the bloody shirt away from Sam’s chest. “Don’t move. I gotta take off your jacket. Don’t pull your arms back, you’ll open it right up.”

Sam kept his mouth shut as Dean helped him take off his jacket and cut off his shirts. It’s not like he hadn’t taken care of his own wounds while Dean was living in suburbia, but this was easier, and he suspected Dean liked fussing over him.

“I don’t think you need any stitches, we’re just going to have to pack it tight for tonight.”

Sam nodded, but then added. “Dude, I need a shower.”

“It’s a whore’s bath for you tonight, Sammy.” Dean cleaned the wound and applied antibiotic ointment before taping him up.

“Come on. I can’t sleep in this stink.”

“It’s not so bad that it can’t wait til morning. I’m gonna get beers out of the trunk, you get some ice for your shoulder.”

Back in the room, Dean set the beer in the mini fridge. “I think you’re right. I’m gonna hop in the shower. Use the sink out here and I’ll wash behind your ears when I get out.”

Dean mussed Sam’s hair and Sam glared at him.

Not wanting to rub in the advantage of a shower, and starting to feel a little sluggish under the hot water, Dean was in and out quickly. Sam had barely attempted to wash up, and was sitting at the table with two beers open. Maybe his shoulder was hurting worse than he let on. “Do you need anything for your shoulder? I have something in my duffel,” he slid his jeans on and snagged a T-shirt.

“No, I’m good. Here,” Sam passed a beer to Dean.  

“Thanks. You got research to do? Or are you just going to brood tonight?”

Sam served him some resting bitchface, “Drink your beer and shut up.”

Dean took a swig and put the beer back on the table. “I gotta clean and sharpen some of the blades tonight while I got time. I think I nicked that big one we inherited from that vamp nest in Bentonville.” He grabbed the key card and walked back out, not bothering to latch the door. The sound of insects seeped through the crack along with the glow of amber street lamps. The long drapes swayed when Dean pushed the door open again and secured it for the night.

He moved his duffel and set up the sharpening stones and an array of knives on the end of the bed before stretching and settling back with the remote.

“Any requests?” Dean glanced over at Sam, who was staring at nothing.

Sam turned his head and raised his eyebrows in response to show his indifference.

Dean shrugged, “Okay then, stinky. Let’s see what’s on the tube.” The older TV hummed to life. _Nothin. Nothin. Nothin. Um… nothin. Ooo! B-movie._ _That’ll do._ He checked the large knife for the rough spot with his thumb, and began to move it in practiced rhythm against a stone, stopping only to examine the edge, sip his beer, and trade out stones or blades. This was his calm. He must have been more tired than he thought, though, because in no time, he was out.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean woke to a hard slap on the face.

“Wake up!”

“What the fuck, Sam?!”

He struggled to get up, but his hands were cuffed over his head and anchored to the bed frame. His ankles were tethered to the bed, too. The bottom dropped out of his stomach.

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s voice rose and he struggled against the restraints.

Sam hit him again.

Dean’s head swam. Was he having a nightmare? He shook his head hard, but he could still feel the hard sting of the slap.

“You puttin’ it together Dean?” Sam drawled.

The smell. He closed his eyes, chastising himself. It wasn’t the Toff. When Sam came back with the ice, it was sulphur under all that refuse smell. He looked over at the beer on the nightstand, not even halfway finished.

He spat, “Christo!”

Sam-not-Sam blinked black eyes, “Very good.” He blinked back to hazel.

Dean growled, “Get out of my brother.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I have plans. And don’t think about messin’ up my plans.” SnS raised a very large knife and pressed the point lightly against Sam’s stomach, “I will gut him without thinking twice.” He paused, “I can see your wheels turnin’, Dean. ‘How am I going to get out of this one?’ Well, you’re not. And you’re not going to get any angelic assistance either.” He gestured to a sigil on the door. “You, and your brother, are well, and truly fucked,” he half smiled, not showing any teeth.

 “What do you want, you sonofabitch?”

“Me? I’m just looking for a good time,” he sighed. “But not everybody’s idea of a good time is the same, huh? Busty Asian Babes?” he tapped Dean’s leg with the flat of the blade.

Dean scowled, but there was nothing to say. SnS backed up and lowered the knife towards Dean’s foot. Dean flinched, but the tether held.

“You can squirm a little if you want. I like it when you squirm.”

“So you’re going to torture me? Is that it? You gotta be fucking kidding me. You know I was tortured in hell for decades, right?”

SnS carefully cut the denim, baring him up to his knee. He frowned at the knife,“This isn’t quite working.” SnS fetched the scissors from the first-aid kit.

“I’m telling you. You’re wasting your time. This isn’t going to be as much fun as you think.”

He paused cutting the jeans to undo Dean’s belt buckle, “Oh, but I think it is,” and jerked the belt hard, out from under his weight. He set it aside and picked up the scissors again. Dean bucked instinctually. “Ah! Careful. You don’t want one of us to get cut,” SnS held the scissors aloft. Dean stilled and SnS started cutting again, working hard to get through the denim layers. “I don’t think you understand how different this is, Dean. Alistair took Sam’s form sometimes when he tortured you, didn’t he?”

Dean averted his eyes.

“But he wasn’t Sam.”

Dean chuckled, “Neither are you.”

“No, but Sam is right here.” SnS ran his hand up Dean’s leg, his fingers under the hem of Dean’s boxer briefs and caressed him before trailing the scissors up to cut them as well. “He’s fighting the good fight, but he hasn’t been getting decent sleep lately, you know.”

Dean’s head was spinning again. A wave of horror washed over him. “If you stop now and walk away, I promise when I hunt you down, I will kill you quickly.”

“Tempting… but no.” He cut up the other pant leg and through the waistline, taking his time.

Dean’s legs were exposed, crotch still covered with his ruined clothes. He strained against the handcuffs, but they only bit into his wrists. He might be able to  break one thumb and get out of a cuff, but the demon would hear and could kill Sam before he subdued him. _Dammit!_

“I don’t think we need this either.” SnS moved his hand up, under Dean’s T-shirt, fingers spread wide, palm against his abs.

Dean closed his eyes, “You sick fuck.”

“Me? Really? I’m going to tell you a few things since I’m wearing little Sammy’s meatsuit and very cozy with him at the moment.” He cut and ripped through the T-shirt, pushing the tattered edges to his sides. “Don’t you ever wonder why Sam never hooks up anymore?”

“He’s got a shitty track record with women.”

“Yes, he does. Interesting that he has a better track record with you. He gives up everything to spend all his time with you and he’s... celibate?” SnS retrieved the large knife and traced it up Dean’s thigh. Dean went very still. SnS lowered his head and kissed the inside of his thigh. Dean groaned, his insides rebelling. SnS rocked back, a pensive look on his face. “I think we need to try something different.” His face morphed with contrition, “I’m sorry Dean. I wish I could stop this. I can’t stop.” Still gripping the knife in his right hand, he laid himself down along Dean’s left side and nuzzled his neck, his leg draped over Dean’s. “Please, Dean.” He kissed Dean’s collarbone, his neck, his left hand roaming down and across Dean’s chest and stomach, dipping to the hollow of his hip, the remnant of his jeans pushed aside, and then retreating back up to hold his face. “Please, Dean. It’s okay.”  Dean tried to move away, but there was nowhere to go. SnS nibbled his jawline. “I promise it will be okay. Just close your eyes. Let me taste you.”

Dean closed his eyes and SnS kissed him roughly, mashing their lips together and invading his mouth with his tongue. Closing his eyes didn’t matter. Maybe it made it worse. All he could smell and taste was Sam. Was it Sam telling him to close his eyes? He wrenched his head away. “Sam, fight it. You gotta fight it, Sam.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’ve tried not to think about you. I know it’s wrong, but sometimes in the shower…” his hand drifted lower and he took hold of Dean’s cock.

_This isn’t Sam. This isn’t Sam. This isn’t Sam._

“I think about you sleeping just one bed over, and how we sleep alone, but we don’t have to.” His thumb moved over the head of Dean’s cock, and despite his revulsion, his body responded. “You see? Mmmmm. You feel that?”

“No.”

SnS kissed him again, tightening his grip and moaning in his mouth. He roved over Dean’s face and jawline, in turns rough and gentle. Dean lay passive and SnS moved away. He kept his eyes shut, not wanting to see. There was the pop of a top and his eyes flew open, recognising the sound as his brother’s tube of lube. “No, please, stop.” He begged. There was nothing else left for him to do.

SnS dragged his hand over his mouth, lightly pulling his lower lip and exposing smooth pink. His eyes raked over Dean and he bit, then sucked on his middle finger. He tucked his chin and looked up through his lashes, releasing his digit with a little sucking sound as he met Dean’s eyes again. He applied lube to his fingers, and put one knee on the bed between Dean’s feet. He bit his lip as he pulled hard on the rags that used to be Dean’s pants, and discarded them. “I need you, Dean. I’m sorry. I can’t stop.”

“No, no, no, no-” he cut off with a grunt when SnS’s slippery fingertip rimmed him flagrantly. SnS gripped his right thigh and pushed it aside with steady pressure and worked his finger in.  

“Don’t fight me, Dean.” SnS kissed his the inside of his hip, nuzzled his erection, and kissed, licked and nibbled his way back up to a nipple, slowly worked a knuckle in and moaned.

Dean’s dick twitched when SnS moaned against his nipple. He tried to stop his body from responding, but it wouldn’t. His head spun and there was no solid purchase to be found anywhere. _This can’t be happening. This isn’t real._ He opened his eyes. SnS moved down, licked his lips and took Dean’s hard cock into his mouth, while he pushed another finger inside of him. _This isn’t real._ He looked up at the ceiling, but it was too close, or too far away. It was wrong. _The ceiling is wrong._ SnS traced his head with the tip of his tongue, and plunged back down again, all the way to the hilt, the hot tightness of his throat intense. Dean moaned. Dean looked, then looked away. Again and again. Snapshots of Sam. _This isn’t real._ Dean could feel his climax approaching and groaned, his whole body tensing, making him even more aware of the tight ring around his brother’s fingers and pressure inside, coaxing him onward. SnS moaned around Dean’s cock and he was undone. Dean looked down in disbelief, watching himself spurt into Sam’s mouth. No. SnS’s smiling mouth and wanton eyes. But it was Sam’s mouth and Sam’s hair stuck to his sweaty face. He closed his eyes and wanted to die.

SnS stood and stripped. He wasn’t done yet. He used the knife to cut one ankle tether and turned Dean over.

“No, please stop. Please,” he rasped.

SnS ignored him, parted his legs, and nudged the head of his cock into Dean. “Oh, Dean. I’ve wanted this for too long. I can’t stop, I can’t…” He plowed into him. Dean thought he might pass out, but instead he retched on the bedding.

SnS thrust again and again, until he bottomed out, grunting and moaning, and saying filthy, poisonous things. “Ughn! Dean, I’ve been dreaming of this and jerking off in the shower. You feel so fucking perfect. I’ve wanted you like this for so long. You think I do everything because I love you like a brother? I get hard just watching you eat fries with that beautiful mouth.” He twisted, pulled and tore the T-shirt from Dean’s back. “You and me against the world, right?” “You,” thrust, “and me,” thrust.

He reached around and grabbed Dean’s cock, growing hard again. “You wanna come with me? I wanna feel you come with me. Come on, Dean.” He rocked in and out, “MMmmm. Come on, Dean. Say my name when you come this time. Say ‘Sam’ and this will all be over. Say it. Come on, Dean. Say it. Say...”

 _This can’t be real._ His brother’s voice reverberated all around. It seemed like the only real thing.

“Come on, Dean. I just want you to say my name.”

It seemed to go on forever; the pain, disgust, and the climax that wouldn't happen. He closed his eyes so hard he saw spots and gasped, “Sam.”

“Again.” SnS fucked him harder and faster.

“Sam,” he croaked.

“Louder!”

“SAM!” and then he came. SnS slammed into him twice more, there was a roaring sound and all the lights went out.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam fell backwards off the bed, landing hard on the floor and reeling. He looked up at his brother, still gaping and bleeding. He was shaky and light-headed from possession. And orgasm. He clambered for the bathroom and threw up so hard he saw red. Beer, bile and his brother’s semen. He stumbled out of the bathroom and pulled on his underwear before turning to his brother. He cut the ankle restraint, averted his eyes from his brother’s exposed ass, and touched his shoulder. Dean recoiled, burrowing his face further into the bedding. He spoke softly, “Dean?” A few heartbeats later, “Dean, it’s Sam.”

Dean turned his head and met his eyes. “Please stop,” he whispered, his lashes wet with tears, nostrils flaring.

“No, Dean. It’s really me.” He rummaged in Dean’s duffel for the holy water and took a swig. The cool flask stung against his lips, tingling and raw from stubble burn. Dean’s head dropped and he pulled weakly against the manacles.

Sam dug the keys out of his jacket pocket. He remembered cuffing Dean, when Dean was passed out, slack-jawed and beautiful. _No. That wasn't me._   

Dean’s wrists were bruised and scraped, so Sam tried to be careful, but Dean was impatient. As soon as the second cuff clicked and slid open, Dean rolled away from Sam, and tried to sit up on the other side of the bed. He gasped, tottered, and curled in the fetal position, facing away from Sam. Dean reached back and grasped the comforter. Sam stood as Dean strained to gather the bloodstained chintz to cover his nakedness. _Blood_. Some of it was Sam’s, from his chest, but the rest…

“Dean, are you…” it was a stupid thing to even start to ask. He grabbed the salt canister from the duffel at his feet. He spread it liberally at the window and door. He paused at the sigil on the door, and looked back at Dean. He was shivering. Sam turned up the heat. He might need stitches, and he couldn't imagine Dean letting anybody do that. Sam went back to the sink for a wet washcloth and scoured the sigil with salt. His head crowded with things he didn't do. When enough of it was gone, he rested his forehead against the door and whispered, “Cas.”

Almost immediately there was a whoosh of wings. Sam stood in his boxer briefs, dried blood trailed from the overwhelmed dressing. Dean was curled up on the bed, half-covered in soiled bedding.

Castiel looked from the former, to the latter and back again. “What. happened?” he growled, too loudly.  

Sam motioned for him to keep his voice down, his eyes on his brother. His outstretched hand trembled. He looked at it, surprised, squeezed it into a fist and placed the traitorous appendage at his side. “A demon.” Sam took a shallow breath and pulled the dressing back to reveal the blemished tattoo.

Castiel looked like a thundercloud, but was prevented from saying anything further by a weak sound from Dean. His face softened, “I’m here, Dean.” Castiel circled to the other side of the bed and knelt down close to him.  

Sam had to turn away from the look of shock on Cas’s face. His stomach churned. Castiel healed Dean and sat with him in silence. Cars passed on the highway. Someone outside hollered to a companion to bring back a pack of smokes.

“Cas?”

The angel stood and crossed the room to Sam, his forehead furrowed with concern.

“Um, can you?” He motioned to his chest. “It’s why I… this…”

Castiel touched his forehead, healing him, and they both examined the tattoo for flaws.

Sam looked beyond Cas, at Dean. Guilt flooded his features. “How could I be so stupid?”

Castiel put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, but said nothing.

“Can you stay with him?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam fished out some fresh clothes and went into the bathroom to shower. He tried with all his might not to think about what happened, but it was all there, right behind his eyelids. He felt an awful weight in his chest. When he emerged from the bathroom, Dean still hadn’t moved and he wasn’t sleeping.

“Cas, let’s move him to the other bed.” Cas nodded. Sam put his hand gently on Dean’s arm “Dean? Come on, Dean.” Dean went rigid and Sam realized his mistake. He pulled his hand away like he’d been burned. “Cas?”

Castiel didn’t ask any questions. “I have you, Dean.” Dean stayed bent at the waist and winced when eased down onto the other bed.

Sam handed Castiel a shirt and underwear for Dean, but stood clear while Castiel dressed him and settled him under the covers. Sam motioned Cas over to the door and they stepped outside, closing the door behind them, “I thought you healed him.”

“I healed all of his physical injuries, Sam.”

Sam pinched his brow and folded his arms tight across his chest. “I think I should go. What am I going to do except hurt him more? He can’t even look at me… I can hardly look at him.” His pitch rose, strangled.

“Get another room. Sleep. I’ll stay,” Cas squeezed his shoulder.

They went back in. Cas sat with Dean, who remained catatonic. Sam set to tidying the room as he gathered his things. He stuffed his brother’s ruined clothes in a plastic bag and trudged out to the dumpster. He paused, remembering to check the pockets. _I cut these. No, I didn’t._ He looked across the parking lot and noted the sun had started to rise. A beautiful pink, purple and blue sunrise. He threw up behind the dumpster.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Dean opened his eyes. Across from him, a well-made bed. Just like any other hotel bed, but the cover…

“Ugh!” he leaned over the side of the bed and heaved into a trash can shoved hastily into place.

“It’s alright,” Castiel’s trenchcoat flanked his right side and the bed dipped.

“No! That smell.” Dean grabbed a handful of cheap tissue, wiped his mouth, and dropped it in the bucket.

“Smell?” Castiel’s head tilted to the side.

Dean shook his head and sniffed, “Nevermind.” He glanced at the alarm clock. 11:03. He sat up and turned to the window. Bright light glowed around the edges of the drapes. He scanned the room. “Where’s Sam?”

“Do you want me to get Sam?”

“Where is he?”

“The other side of that wall.” Castiel pointed to the head of the bed.

Dean nodded and took a shuddery breath. Snapshots of Sam flickered in his head. “Maybe we should let him sleep.”

Castiel squinted, “He’s not sleeping.”

Dean moved the covers back and Cas stood as he swung his feet over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, looking down at his feet. He rubbed his wrists. Not a mark. His face burned with shame. “I need a shower.” He stood quickly, head still bent. “Do you mind?”

Castiel backed away toward the door, “I’ll go check on Sam.”

Dean made a noncommittal grunt and shut the bathroom door behind him. The whirr of the exhaust fan muted the sound of Cas leaving. He emptied his bladder and adjusted the squeaky taps before stepping under the water. It smelled strongly of chlorine. He couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, but the water pressure was good and the spray pelted his skin. He leaned into it. A knock on the door startled him. “I’ll be out in a minute!” He finished his ablutions and scrubbed himself with the nubbly towel.

A cloud of steam followed him into the main room. Nobody was there. 12:34. _What the?_ He brushed his teeth quickly and pulled on some clothes. The horrible bedcovers were giving him a headache. When Castiel returned, he was throwing things into his pack. “We need to go.”

Castiel nodded, “Okay.”

“Is Sam ready?”

“He’s waiting in the car.”

Dean scanned the room. Sam must have grabbed most of the gear earlier. He strode out the door swinging his duffel.

Sam waited in the Impala with the windows down. Dean slung his bag in the trunk and slid behind the wheel. The car was hot in the midday sun. Cas sat in the back, chewing his lower lip.

Dean stared at the steering wheel. The key was already in the ignition.

“You, uh, want me to drive?”

Sam’s voice sounded further away than it should. He shook his head, “No, I’m good.” He didn’t move. “Did you sleep?”

“No.”

Dean looked over at his brother for the first time since… Sam looked pale, sweaty, and his eyes were puffy and focused on the dashboard. Dean looked back at the wheel and rested his hand on the key.

“Where are we going?” Castiel asked.

The engine roared into life and purred with perfect timing. Dean listened for a stray rattle, but there wasn’t one. “We’re going to drop off the room keys, and then,” he went over a mental checklist. He took a deep breath, straightened his back and flexed his hands on the wheel, “we need some grub.”

Sam looked over at his brother, incredulous, and then looked out the window as Dean shifted into reverse.


	5. Chapter 5

At early afternoon, the diner was nearly empty. Waitresses chatted as they rolled silverware for the dinner rush or refilled condiments. They sat at a small table. Dean and the angel faced the front door opposite Sam, who covered the bathroom and rear exit. Castiel sat near the wall. The dishwasher crashed around in the kitchen and Sam jumped. A chirpy middle-aged blonde brought them menus and ice water. “Breakfast’s all day, and we still have most of the lunch specials, but we’re out of sausage gravy and the reuben sandwich.”

“Coffee,” Dean and Sam said in unison. Dean’s eyes slid over Sam and up to the waitress. “Black.”

The waitress nodded, “And you, sir?”

Castiel shook his head. “Just water, thank you, Danielle.”

She whisked off to get the mugs and carafe.

Castiel lay his menu on the table and peered at the dessert trifold display.

The waitress returned, set down the mugs and poured the coffee. “Do you want a few more minutes to read the menu?”

Dean hadn’t done more than peek at the menu, but he handed it back to her confidently, “I’ll have the bacon burger plate.”

“Alrighty, then. You want cheese on that?”

“Sure.”

“American, cheddar, provolone, swiss or pepper jack?”

“Pepper jack.”

“Slaw?”

“Yeah.”

“This all on the same ticket, or separate?”

Dean glanced over at Castiel, still eyeing the dessert list. “All together.”

“And what would you like?” Danielle turned toward Sam.

“I, uh.” Sam shook his head.

“You need a minute? I can come back,” she smiled.

“I’m not really that hun-”

Dean interrupted without looking at him, “He’ll have the mac and cheese. You have homemade mac and cheese?”

“Yes, sir, we do. It’s one of my favorites.”

“That’ll be great,” Dean smiled. Sam watched him and frowned.

Danielle looked to Sam for consent. He nodded, she jotted it down and moved on to Castiel. “What can I get for you?”

“I will have the strawberry shake with whipped cream. And a big straw.”

“A man after my own heart,” she winked and gathered up the menus. “I’ll put that order right in.”

Dean’s smile faded. He drank his coffee, and eyed the word search on the placemat. Sam rubbed a spot off his coffee mug, unrolled the flatware and fidgeted with the paper napkin ring.

The food came fast, since there was no competition in the kitchen. Dean scooped up his burger and took a big bite. He chewed and looked down where the bacon fat dripped on his fries. Sam poked experimentally at the baked mac and cheese with his fork. Castiel unwrapped his straw and pushed it down into the tall glass. He sensed that Dean had stopped moving and he turned his head just slightly to look at his companion through the corner of his eye. Dean was pale and fixed, staring down at his food. Sam looked up, and opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel caught his eye and shook his head. Sam hunched in his chair and shoved a forkful of pasta in his mouth. He swallowed hard and washed it down with some ice water.

Castiel raised his eyebrows and nodded approvingly, “Is it good?”

Sam couldn’t tell, but he said, “Yeah, it’s even got real cheese in it.”

Dean started chewing again and swallowed, “Not like the powdered crap I used to make you, huh, Sammy?”

“No.” Sam wanted to say more, but it felt farcical.  

“Well, eat up. I gotta hit the head.” Dean brushed the crumbs from his hands and stood.

Sam watched him until the door closed. He turned to Castiel, “Shouldn't one of us go with him or something?”

Cas took a long pull on his straw, blue eyes on Sam, “I will check on him in a minute. Eat your food, Sam. You’re hungry.”

Sam twisted uncomfortably in his seat, fork in hand. He looked down at the cheesy mass. He ate mechanically, contemplating the preparation, and then the meaning of his food. _Did he order it to comfort me, or to remind me of what I failed to protect?_ He forced his way through the last of it, keeping one eye on the bathroom door. Dean hadn't returned and Cas hadn't budged. Sam sat on the edge of his seat, picked up his mug and put it down again. “You said you’d check on him.”

“I did, Sam.”

Sam flushed and nodded peering into his cup, “Right. Of course.”

“I’ll go get him.” Castiel awkwardly maneuvered the tables and chairs and knocked lightly on the bathroom door. He waited and pushed the door open.

Sam waited. Danielle refilled coffees. Castiel and Dean emerged from the bathroom. Dean’s face and hair were damp, Cas’s expression indecipherable.

Dean paused at the table, glanced at his plate, and felt his pocket for the car keys, “I’m gonna go sit in the car.” Without further explanation he was out the door. Sam reached for his wallet and Cas picked up Dean’s burger in a napkin and followed him.

The sun glinted off the chrome. Cas stood, leaning back to against the passenger side. Dean sat behind the wheel, burger in hand. Sam joined Cas and stared blankly at the urban decay, waiting.

“You guys coming?” Dean turned the key and they slid in on the hot leather.

“Where to?” Sam asked out of habit. He looked down at the burger in the trash bag. Dean didn’t answer, just tilted his head to the side still staring out the windshield. “Do you wanna head back to the bunker? We’re only eight hours out.”

“Um, no. What do you say we go hunting? Cas?” He adjusted the rear view, “You up for it?”

Sam couldn't tell if it was ironic or absurd that Dean asked that.

“Yes. I am ‘up for it’. What shall we hunt?”

“Sammy, why don’t you get some papers?” He pointed at the bright metal boxes in front of the diner.

“Ah, um, okay,” He opened the door and Dean continued.

“You and Cas can read and I’ll head south. That’s usually a good bet.”

Sam stood up and dug in his pockets for change. _What the fuck are we doing?_

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure where to divide up chapters. Please forgive the mess.

Sam and Castiel pieced a case together. A couple of unusual deaths at a High School in Pennsylvania. They headed east from Des Moines.

“What do you think? Haunting? Witchcraft? Man, I hope it’s not witches. Friggin’ bored teenagers.” Dean shook his head.

“I’m not betting against it,” Sam folded the paper and read a passing road sign illuminated by the headlights. “We should stop for the night.” Dean took a sip of coffee. “I need to research.”

Cas spoke up. “You should sleep.”

“Alright, fine.” Dean’s reluctance was palpable.

They passed a hotel, but Dean didn’t slow. Sam rubbed his eyes and Castiel said nothing. He pulled in to the next one and parked next to the main office.

Sam saw the attendant appear in the brightly lit lobby. “You want me to get two rooms?”

Dean scoffed, “Do we ever get two rooms? Cas, you want a separate room?”

Castiel leaned forward, hands on the seat back between the two brothers. “I don’t sleep.”

“Okay, just the one. I’ll be right back.” Sam pushed the door open and stretched his stiff legs.

He came back with the keys and Dean followed his directions back to the far corner of the block of rooms, first floor.

They unloaded the car and Dean was the first in, followed by Sam and Cas. Dean put his duffel down on the bed closest to the door, touched the floral bedspread and froze. Sam bumped into him and Dean pushed against him with his back, “Watch it.”

“Sorry.” Sam moved around to his right and Cas shut the door. Dean scanned the room, dug out his flask and took a nip, his eyes downcast. Sam put down his bag and turned to look at him.

Dean’s whole body tensed. “I gotta take a shower. I’ve got road wraunch.” He moved the handles on his bag, but paused, feeling Sam’s eyes on him, “What?”

Sam cast a helpless look at Castiel. Cas gave a minimal nod, conveying nothing, and sat down in one of the chairs with the stack of newspapers. “Um, I’m going to head out and get some food and supplies. You want anything in particular?”

“Anything’s fine.”

“Keys?”

Dean handed him the keys. His hand was cold and clammy, and he withdrew from Sam, reflexively rubbing his hand on his jeans.

 _As if he touched something dirty._ Sam’s chest tightened and he got out of there as fast as he could.

*****

 

When he returned, Dean was shaving. The bedspreads were folded wrong side out on the luggage rack. Cas was reading. Sam put the take-out bags on the table. “I got you General Chicken and…” he put the bottle of whiskey down. Dean looked at it through the reflection and nodded. “Pepper chicken?” He handed a box to Cas, who nodded in thanks. “I’ve got more stuff in the car.”

Sam came back, two bulky packages in his arms. Dean turned, eying them. “Whatchya got there, Samantha?”

“I thought you might like them.” Sam unzipped the clear vinyl on one and pulled out a plaid comforter. “It still smells like plastic, but they’re loads better than the crappy hotel ones we’re used to.”

Dean turned back to the mirror, “We travel light.”

Sam’s arms dropped, the bedding trailing on the floor.

“Let me help,” Cas came up behind him and moved Sam’s bag from the bed. “Here,” he picked up a corner from the floor and he and Sam arranged it over the thin blanket.

Dean wiped his face, tossed the washcloth on the counter, and walked over to his bed. He moved his bag to the floor, unzipped the other comforter and the three of them wordlessly spread it over the second bed. Dean patted the microfiber and nodded, “Thanks. It’s good.” Embarrassed by a rush of gratitude for the morsel of approval, Sam nodded and went to wash his hands before eating.

Dean grabbed a take out box. He sat on the edge of his bed facing the bathroom, poking at it with the chopsticks. Sam flipped open his laptop, set his notebook to the side, and grabbed his box of stir fry.

He snuck glimpses of Dean, who finally began to eat.

*****

 

Sam woke and turned his head toward the sound. He heard Castiel’s whisper.

“What is it Dean?”

“Salt. We didn’t salt the place.”

In the dim light, he saw Dean kneeling on the floor, hands in his duffel.

“That’s not necessary.”

Dean stopped, “Right.” He rocked back on his heels.

“Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t.”

Cas moved from his chair and knelt next to Dean. They sat there, still, in the darkness until Dean’s breathing tremored and he leaned into Cas’s shoulder and the angel put his arms around him and he wept.

Sam turned his eyes toward the ceiling, feeling like a spy. An interloper. He squeezed his eyes shut, his brother’s choked sob echoed in the spartan room. The weight on his chest returned. He could feel the sting of tears, but he forced himself to be silent and still. Another sob, he felt cold all over and flashed back to Dean, exposed and vulnerable below him. _No, no, no, no._ He rolled on his side and clamped his hand over his mouth, breathing through his nose, too loudly he thought, but Dean’s crying cloaked him. _Don’t move._ He forced it all down and clenched until he could control his breathing. He thought about the High School case. He turned over the details again and again. He planned the route. He calculated travel time. Gas mileage. His brother quieted and he heard the rustle of bedding. He stared at the wall and waited for dawn, but sleep came first.


	7. Chapter 7

The Pennsylvania job was a cake walk. Vengeful spirit: salt and burn the bones. 16-year-old cyberbullied to the point of suicide. She took two other kids and the vice principal down, which is how they made the case. Castiel asked them to refill the grave, and he disappeared for ten minutes while they labored in the dirt. He returned with a floral arrangement.

“She liked purple,” he leaned the arrangement against the headstone.

“And setting people on fire,” Dean grumbled.

Sam smiled despite himself. “I was really hoping for spontaneous combustion.”

“But this has a solution. I like it. Let’s go,” Dean hefted his shovel.

“The dirt’s not all back.”

Dean gestured at the partially filled hole “They’re going to dig it all back up once they see the fresh dirt. Look at all the flowers. Her mom is here every day. We’re done.”

Castiel relented, and they walked back to the car, leaving trails in the dewy grass. They tossed the tools in the trunk and the brothers had each opened their doors when Castiel spoke, “I have something that I need to do.” They both looked at him, surprised, and Sam looked from Cas to Dean, but his brother looked down. “I have to go for awhile.”

Dean was the first to speak, “Awhile?” There was an edge to his voice. Anger or fear. Sam couldn’t tell which.

“Call me from the hotel. I only need a few hours.”

Dean’s shoulders lowered incrementally. Other than ten minutes of shoveling, they hadn’t spent anytime alone and even then, they’d had something to do.

“Call me,” Cas repeated. Dean nodded and got in the car.

Castiel shot a reassuring look to Sam, but he didn’t feel it. Sam shut the door. Dean pulled away from the cemetery and turned onto the main road. Neither of them spoke. A few miles down the road Sam leaned against the door and closed his eyes. It was still early by their standards, 10ish, but the engine lulled him.

Fifteen minutes later he jerked awake, arms flailing, his heart pounding.

“Sammy? Sammy?! You’re in the car. You’re okay!”

He stopped, his surroundings coming into focus. He panted and blinked hard. “No, I’m not.”

“What?” Dean slowed the car.

“I’m _not_ okay. _You’re_ not okay.”

“Hell, I know that. I just meant… whatever.”

Sam sat up in the seat, rubbed his legs and stretched the little bit that he could in the confined area. He hesitated, but said it anyways, “Dean, you know that nothing he said is true, right?”

Dead silence.

“Dean?”

“I can’t talk about this now.”

“Do you know when?”

Dean slammed on the brakes, swerving right and coming to a full stop halfway off the blacktop. He killed the engine, sprang from the driver’s seat, slammed the door and paced ahead. The headlights cast a long shadow. He stopped, hands on his hips. Sam’s door creaked open and his boots crunched in the soft shoulder.

“Oh, my GOD, Sammy!” Dean looked to the sky before facing Sam.

“We have to talk about this,” he came to a stop about six feet from his brother.

“Why? Because talking is gonna fix this?! No, dammit! Someday I am going to gank the sonofabitch that did this, but in the meantime I am going to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Because that’s what I do.” Dean stalked back toward the car.

Sam bent over, dug his fingers into the damp fill, drew his arm back and flung a handful at Dean. Dean ducked as the pebbles hit him and ricocheted off Baby. He stared at the sand scattered on the hood, obscuring the reflection of the night sky.

“What the hell?!” Dean strode toward Sam, head tilted forward, lips tight and arms out at his sides.

Sam raised his chin and pushed his brother. Dean grabbed his arms. Sam feinted a headbutt, and Dean dodged sideways, still holding his brother’s arms, “Sammy, what are you doing?!”

“Hit me!”

Dean looked bewildered, “What?!”

“Just hit me! I can’t stand it anymore! We drive in the car and you can’t look at me. We stop for food and you can’t eat if I’m looking. I know you hate me, I disgust you, and now you say nothing is gonna fix this?! I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore. I feel sick all the time and-”

“That’s what you think?” Dean let go of Sam and his brother sunk to his knees in the wet sand and gravel.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m so sorry.”

The words bounced off the inside of Dean’s head and he held his head in his hands, “SHUT UP! Just stop.” His head was ringing, and his heart pounded. He heard Sam get up and he felt his brother’s touch on his shoulder. He jerked back. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

Dean felt light-headed so he leaned against Baby, hands braced on his knees. Sam dug around in the car, came back with a burger sack and handed it to Dean. He looked at the paper bag. _You gotta be kidding me._ But he nodded and put the bag over his mouth. After awhile he dropped his arms to his sides and they just stood, leaning against the Impala on the roadside looking out into the night sky.

When Dean finally started to speak, it was so soft, he had to clear his throat and start again. “We got complacent, Sammy.” He shivered against the cold and damp, head down and collar up. “We got complacent, and we got hurt.” Sam took a breath to interrupt, but Dean rushed on. “I could never hate you. _Never_. I’m sorry. I’m trying to be okay. I’m just messed up, you know? I’m really fucked up.” He shook his head and looked at Sam, eyes filled with tears. He looked away, and blinked, tears falling.

Sam wanted to hug him, and say over and over how sorry he was, about all of it. _It’s not your fault Dean. It was my tattoo. I didn’t lay down the salt. I didn’t fight hard enough. I didn’t stop the demon._ He wanted to beg his brother for forgiveness, but when he opened his mouth, it felt wrong. He nodded and sniffled, “Okay.”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean parked in front of the hotel room and killed the engine. He looked at the door ahead and slumped.

Sam slid his hand over the leather and took the keys from his hand, “I’ll get us set up.” He opened the door, stood, and ducked back in. “Call him.” Dean nodded and Sam shut the door and started moving their gear. He waited until Sam disappeared inside.

Dean breathed heavily, “Cas?” Cas appeared next to him in the front seat. He heard him but didn’t look yet. “Did you really have something else to do?” He turned to face him.

“I had to go,” Cas pressed his lips together, blue eyes filled with concern.

Dean’s gaze fell to his rumpled clothing. “We talked.” He expected Cas to say something, and when he didn’t, he looked back to his face, expression unchanged. “That’s why you left.” It wasn’t a question, but Cas averted his eyes, confirming the statement. Dean scowled at the steering wheel and hit it with the heel of his palm. “He wanted me to hit him, Cas. He thinks I hate him.” He paused and corrected himself, voice strained, “He _thought_ I hated him.” He didn’t want to cry, and this time the tears didn’t come. Maybe he was all dried up for awhile. He chuckled, “He threw gravel at my head. It’s been a long time since he’s done that. Felt like old times for a second there.” He shook his head. “He’s hurtin’, Cas. It’s like we’ve both been shot, and I wanna help him, but I’m just holding my guts in here.”

“Give it time.”

“You really think ‘time heals all wounds’ is the right platitude for our situation?!” Dean’s voice rang with resentment and he glared at his friend. Cas looked apologetic, opened his mouth and closed it again. Dean shifted away and covered his eyes with his left hand. He breathed in and out. His emotions were all over the place lately, and when he felt relatively calm, he lost time. He’d stop to think for a moment, and the world spun off without him.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” He felt Cas’s hand cover his right hand resting on the seat. His hand tremored, responding to a weak reflex to shrink away. “Are you staying?”

“Yes.”

He squeezed Cas’s fingers. Cas returned the gesture.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Dean gasped. Another bad dream. He rubbed his face, sat up, and looked around. Cas was gone. His heart sank. _He said he’d stay._ He braced himself mentally. _It’s okay. He must have something he needs to do. Everything’s okay._ He couldn’t really remember the dream, just the panic. _4AM. I’ll just take a shower now._ He moved quietly, not wanting to wake Sam. He flipped on the light in the bathroom, turned on the water and dropped his clothes on the floor in front of the door. He stepped under the stream and let it cover his face. It felt neither hot nor cold, but good. He turned to let it fall on his shoulders. He opened his eyes and Sam was there, his hair flattened, wet against his face and mouth. Dean let out a cry, but he didn’t hear it. Sam shushed him and put his arms around him. Dean pushed against his chest but his arms wouldn’t work and he was trapped in his brother’s embrace. Sam seemed impossibly big against him, his eyes level with his brother’s mouth. Sam lowered his head and kissed him gently. It was nice. Sam’s mouth slid over his, his hands caressing his back. He felt blood rush to his groin. Sam smiled against his mouth and moved lower, kissing his neck and- _NO! No! This isn’t real. STOP!_

“STOP!” rang out in the small room. Dean sat bolt upright, heart hammering in his chest.

“Dean?” Sam swung his feet to the floor. He squinted, looking for the danger, hair mussed from sleep.

To his right, Cas leaned forward in his chair, eyes on him, but didn’t reach out. Dean rubbed his face and took a ragged breath, “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep, Sammy.” He lowered himself back on his elbow, and felt the bunched comforter against his erection. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ He turned his hips away from Sam’s side of the room, his face hot.

He watched Cas look at Sam across the room, over his body. “It’s alright, Sam.” Behind him, Sam’s bed squeaked and the bathroom door opened and shut.

Dean’s lower lip trembled.

“It’s normal,” Cas’s voice scraped across his raw nerves.

“What?”

“If you’re wondering. It’s normal.” Headlights flickered against the drapes.

“What is?”

“Whatever you’re feeling.”

Dean pulled the covers tight over his shoulders, “Where the fuck did you get that?”

Cas leaned closer, “I’ve been reading.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Dean sprang from the bed, seized him by the collar and threw him across the room, against the outside wall, toppling the table. Books, laptop, and leftovers smashed to the floor. Dean was on him again before he had a chance to finish standing, “YOU’VE BEEN _READING?!_ ” He grabbed him and slammed him against the wall as hard as he could and punched Castiel twice before he felt Sam grab him. Sam was yelling something. He pulled hard against him, then threw an elbow back, solidly connecting with something. Castiel slumped down the wall, and he kicked at him with his bare feet. “I am not a fucking project!”

“Dean! Dean, STOP!” Sam was shouting in his ear, and had maneuvered him into a headlock.

“GET OFF! Get _off_ of me!”

“No, not until you calm down! Cas?” Castiel righted himself slowly against the wall. “Dean, listen. Listen to me, Dean. Stop. This isn’t you.”

Dean was still breathing hard, the room went in and out of focus. He felt sick and faint. “Sammy?” Sam relaxed his hold and Dean’s knees gave out. Sam supported him as he slid down to sit on the floor, back against the bed.

Sam knelt next to his brother. “Dean?”

Dean brought his knees up, and rested his head on his forearm, curled around his aching gut. “Don’t look at me.”

For a painfully long time, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing. He could feel their eyes.

Sam stood, “Cas, you got him?”

Dean didn’t hear a response, but he must have nodded.

“I’m going for a run.”

Dean rolled his head a few degrees to the side. He could see daylight under the drapes. Sam slipped on a track suit. Dean watched their feet as Cas got up and stood aside so Sam could open the door. Cas came over and sat next to him on the floor, but didn’t speak.

Finally, the ache inside unraveled enough and Dean spoke, “Are you gonna leave?”

“Do you want me to, Dean?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t.”

Dean lifted his head and rested it sideways against his arm. “Why?”

Cas lifted his eyebrows in surprise and looked at him. “Do you want me to tell you?”

“Yeah. I mean, I just beat the shit out of you. That’s fucked up.”

Cas smiled slightly, “You tried.”

Dean surveyed Cas’s face. There wasn’t a mark on him. He glanced down and the corner of his mouth twitched, “Yeah, okay.” His eyes returned to Castiel’s, “Tell me.”

Cas looked at his hands on his bent knees, “It may be blasphemous, but I think there is no other creature in creation that I care more about, Dean Winchester.” He turned his head back to Dean, his eyes smiling.

Dean picked his head up, brows high and mouth open. He certainly hadn’t expected a declaration of love. He mouthed, “Wha?” his brows drew together. “Me?”

Cas nodded and smiled before looking back at his hands again. He picked at a fingernail.

Dean looked ahead at the laminate entertainment cabinet, and pushed back on the bed.  He unfurled slightly and his feet inched forward. In truth, he felt a bit smug. He ducked his head, flustered at the realization. “I think that might be a little fucked up,” he smiled, a small, close-mouthed smile into his chest.

Cas chuckled softly, “Maybe.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to shower before breakfast?”

“Yeah, I better get in before Sam.” He grunted as he stood. He felt wrung out. He looked over at the toppled table, regret shading his features.

“I’ll get this,” Cas motioned to the mess.

“Thank you.” He meant 'thank you' for more than cleaning up after him. He hoped Cas knew that.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“You what?!” Crowley stood, sloshing his tumbler of Craig. He looked down at the scotch dripping from his hand, disgusted. Teeth on edge, he placed the glass behind him on the recessed shelf. He swung around to face the source of his ire. “You WHAT?!” His face reddened, and he cleared his desk, paper, scrolls, quills, pens, and ephemera flying.

The scrawny brunette on the other side of the desk quailed, rocking back in her slingbacks. The guards, sensing the tenor of the conversation, seized her elbows.

“YOU BLOODY MORON!” spittle flew from Crowley’s mouth as he stormed towards her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” He halted uncomfortably close. “Trina, is it?”

“I was just having a bit of fun,” she shrank back.

He shut his eyes and ground his teeth in exasperation. “WHY does no one ever listen to me? Stay away from the Winchesters.” He stepped back to his desk and sat on the edge, grasping his chin in thought.

“I didn’t know they were your pets,” Trina muttered.

“That’s it. Kill her,” he waved his hand dismissively. She cried out, but before the guards could dispatch her, he held up his hand, “No, wait.” He paused in thought, “I don’t need the denim menace buggering up my operations, hunting you down. No…” He stood and circled back to his drink. “Lock her up.” He sat down hard in his chair, looked into his glass, set it down, and massaged his temples.

*****

 

“What is it with vampires and Louisiana?” Dean slammed the trunk shut.

“Anne Rice?” Sam suggested. He pulled a napkin from his jacket pocket and wiped at dark goo on his brow, smearing it around.

“You missed a spot,” Dean pointed to his ear.

“Ah, God! It’s in my ear?! I need a shower.”

Dean shrugged off a flash of the shower dream. He was getting better at pushing that stuff aside.

Sam put his hand on the passenger door, “Dibs! I call dibs.”

Dean smiled and opened his door. “Alright, Samantha. You get to wash that vampire right out of your hair first.”

Dean gratuitously spunout in the gravel drive and grinned, turning up the volume on the tape deck. Sam indulged him, and, though he wouldn’t mind adding some variety to his brothers mullet rock, it felt good watching his brother like this. It’s been sixteen days, no sixteen nights, since… Sam swallowed. _The rape._ Even thinking the word was painful. He looked over at his brother’s head, bobbing with the music.

At the beginning of the next song, Sam reached over and turned down the dial. “You wanna grab take out?”

“Yeah, I could use a burger.” Dean fished his cell out of his pocket.

“Cas? We’re going to swing through the drive-thru. You want something? Yeah, I know you don’t need to eat. Cas? Cas?” he glanced at the glowing screen, scowled and dropped it on the seat.

Sam raised his eyebrows, “I take it he’s still mad at you?” Dean didn’t respond, but Sam felt the car accelerate. “He worries, Dean.”

Dean looked at the speedometer and eased up on the gas, “I know, but these are milk runs, and we can’t have him with us all the time.”

“Why not? If he wants to help?”

“I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right. It feels like… training wheels, and we’re doing all right, aren’t we?” he looked over at Sam.

Sam nodded, “Yeah,” and tried to make an open, relaxed expression with his face. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded, but Dean seemed satisfied. Sam turned the volume back up and looked out into the darkness. Dean dialed it down again.

“Sam?”

It jolted him to hear Dean say his name. “Yeah?”

“If we’re going to hunt demons, we can’t have Cas with us. He’s like a beacon.” The air felt heavy.

“You’re talking about hunting him, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

Sam started to sweat and tightened his gut.

“Aren’t you ready for some payback?” Dean looked from the road, to Sam, and back to the road.

A wave of rancor rolled over him. Eating. Eating together. Eye contact. Calling him ‘Sam’. These small things were now cause for celebration, and he had no idea if they’d ever get back what they had before. His spine straightened, he clenched his jaw and nodded, “Yeah. I’m ready.” He reached ahead and turned up the volume until he could feel the bass beat against his chest.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Back at the hotel room, the three of them sat around the small table, Sam on the bed, Dean and Cas in the chairs. Dean crumpled his burger wrapper and tossed it on the table. “I know we don’t have a name. Yet.” He took a swig from the bottle and passed it to Sam. Sam hesitated, took a pull, grimaced and set it on the table.

Cas shook his head, “I don’t like it.” He looked from Sam to Dean.

Dean held Cas’s stare, “I can see that.” Dean didn’t waver.

Cas looked away, his mouth tightened to a line. The silence drew out. Dean took another drink, held onto the bottle, leaned back in his chair and picked the edge of the label with his fingernail.

Sam felt words hanging in the air between his brother and the angel, squeezing him out. It irritated him. Cas and Dean. Guilt bubbled up and mixed with the resentment. _Training wheels_ Dean had said. He wasn’t wrong. They relied on Cas a lot in the last two weeks and he hadn’t let them down. He reminded them to eat, he used his angelic powers to help them sleep when they finally surrendered to the option, he watched over them while they slept, and he comforted Dean. _He_ comforted Dean. Sam felt a pang of jealousy, and his brows knit together trying to identify the emotion. Cas wiped ketchup from the corner of his mouth, drawing Sam’s attention.

Cas glanced at Dean, and then away again. “This is not a good plan.”

Dean set his jaw, “Noted.”

Sam cleared his throat, they both turned to look at him. “Um, I’m just going to get some air.” Dean rolled his eyes, aggravated by his brother’s lame excuse. Sam grabbed his jacket and retreated out the door.

As soon as the door clicked shut Cas started, “What are you going to do Dean? Kill every demon?”

“Well, it’s thorough.”

“Crowley will not stand for it. He’ll raise his army against you.”

Dean stopped, mid-swig. “You don’t think-?” He paled. “You don’t think he planned this, do you?”

Cas paused and frowned. “He is the King of Hell, Dean.”

Dean put the bottle down on the table, leaning forward. He rubbed his lower lip with his knuckle. He reflected on their dealings with Crowley. “No,” He shook his head. “He wouldn’t do this.” Dean stood and began to pace.

“He is not your friend Dean.”

Dean held up his hand. “I didn’t say that.” He shook his head again, “Crowley wouldn’t do this. It’s doesn’t feel right,” his voice rose.

“Dean-”

“No, I trust my gut and my gut says that’s not what happened. If I can’t trust my gut, it’s over, Cas.” Dean stopped pacing, one arm around his midsection, his other hand raised, still rubbing his lower lip with his knuckle.

Cas could see desperation fluttering behind his green eyes. “Okay.” He circled the table and stood by Dean, and put his hand on his shoulder. Dean shrugged him off.

“Don’t. I can’t. I can’t be who I need to be when you do that.”

Cas’s hand dropped to his side, “Who do you need to be?”

Dean closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let his arms relax to his sides. “I have to be strong again.”

“You’re afraid. That doesn’t mean you aren’t strong.”

Dean looked at him, “I’m not- I know that. I just-” he looked down, “I don’t feel like myself. It’s been me and Sam, and I want it to be like that again. But you’re here.”

“So you want me to go.” Cas took a step back.

“No,” Dean’s face contorted. “Dammit, Cas.” He turned toward Cas, slid his arm around Cas’s waist and pulled him in. Dean’s mouth hovered over Cas’s, their breath mingling, “I don’t know what I’m doing,” and he crushed Cas to him. Dean’s mouth pressed hard against Cas’s dry lips, but it wasn’t enough. He moved against Cas, deepening their kiss and the angel opened himself to Dean, their tongues sliding together. Dean backed out of the kiss a fraction. Cas’s mouth chased his, and he licked and bit Dean’s lip. Dean groaned and dove back into the kiss, his right hand moving through Cas’s hair. He felt dizzy, “Mmm, wait.” Their mouths parted, and they stood panting, foreheads together. Dean opened his eyes to Castiel’s blue eyes on his, lids heavy.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice was rough. Rougher than usual.

The sound of his name like that from Cas drove him forward again, and Cas returned his kiss, but soon broke off, turning his head, “I need to...”

Dean loosened his grip, breathing hard.

“Stop,” the angel was tense in his arms.

Dean let go completely, “Cas. I- I’m sorry.”

“No. Dean?”

Dean backed away, still light-headed. _What am I doing?_

 “Dean?” Cas touched his hand and Dean looked at him. “Sam may be back soon and…” his eyes shifted from side to side and then down at the erection pressing against his pants.

“Oh.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

Cas stepped close to Dean again, the warmth radiating from his body. “I liked that.”

“I can tell,” Dean licked his kiss-swollen lips.

“I want to do it again.”

“You just said-”

“Later, Dean. No interruptions.”

Dean shivered and nodded.

Cas sat down at the table, gingerly, and picked up his book. Dean smiled, self-satisfied, and looked around for something to do.

Sam returned five minutes later, “Did you two kiss and make up?”

Dean and Cas looked at each other a little alarmed.

“The _plan_.” Sam said, exasperated.

Dean returned to whittling. “Oh, um, no. Nope. We didn’t figure it out yet. We’ll talk about it over breakfast.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Sam muttered and opened his laptop.

*****

 

The next morning at breakfast, Dean didn’t seem any more inclined to discuss their idea of hunting down the demon. Sam picked at his omelette and eyed his brother. Dean ate steadily, drank his coffee and flirted harmlessly with the waitress. Cas sat at his side, exploring his first breakfast wrap.

“Like an omelette, but in a tortilla,” Cas observed.

Sam thought, _More like a scramble,_ but didn’t bother to correct their companion. Whatever he said to Dean last night, put out the fire under Dean’s ass to find the bastard that did this to them. Sam looked down at his coffee. _If you stop now and walk away, I promise when I hunt you down, I will kill you quickly._ He put the cup down and gripped his hands together under the table to hide the tremor. Neither Dean nor Cas seemed to notice. He picked up his fork. “You want me to grab some papers?”

“Yeah, that’d be good, but I’m not ready to head out just yet. I could use a day or two off. You?”

Sam’s brows shot up. “Um, sure.” _What. the. hell?_ “Do you want to go back to the bunker?”

“Ah, no. I just want to rest up and hang out for a bit.”

Sam didn’t miss the bunker, but he knew it felt like a home to Dean, so this obvious avoidance bothered him. “What did you have in mind?”

“We got pay per view and there’s a dive bar a mile or so down the road from the hotel. What do ya say we shoot some pool tonight?” Dean nudged Cas with his elbow and looked at him.

Cas put his food down deliberately and licked his thumb, “I don’t play pool.”

Dean paused, eyes on the angel, “You can watch.”

The corner of Cas’s mouth curled, “I think I’d like that.” He turned his eyes to Dean.

Sam leaned back, watching the pair. The angel had a bad habit of making too much or too little eye contact, but what was Dean’s excuse? Dean shifted focus back to his pancakes, smiling. “ _Oh_.” Sam thought it so loud it popped right out of his mouth.

Dean stopped mid-bite, his fork still in his mouth, eyebrows raised. “Mrmph?”

“Oh, uh, nothing. I was just thinking it’s been a long time since we played pool together, but, um, it’s been longer since I caught a movie, and I think I’m gonna go grab a paper and see what’s playing, I think there was something I wanted to see.” Sam got up, bumping the table. Dean steadied his water glass. “I’ll just go get one.” Sam turned, wincing at the extraordinary awkwardness he’d just perpetrated.

The double doors squeaked open as he pushed out into the bright sunlight. He stopped by the bright metal box and reached in his pocket for change.  _Does Dean even know? Cas has to know. Cas totally knows. My brother is crushing on an angel. A guy!_ His smile faded. _Is this because…?_  He sighed. _Dean’s been so messed up. This is too soon. I gotta talk to Cas. I think Dean will thrash me if I-_ He slouched and hung his head, his buoyancy dissipated. He groaned inwardly. He got the paper and plodded back inside.

Dean was walking back to the restroom when he returned. He sat down and waited for the door to shut.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?”

“Anything you want to tell me?”

The angel wiped his hands with a napkin and looked back at him thoughtfully. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Sam leaned over the table, his voice low, “Look, I know my brother. He’s been really messed up.” Castiel tilted his head and waited. “And you two have been close, but these last weeks have been… different.” He rushed through the last of it, afraid Dean would return before he could get it out. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but you better be careful. That’s my brother.”

“Sam, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.”

“I know that, but-”

Dean came up to the table, “All set?”

Cas looked down at his empty plate, “Yes.”

Sam pushed away the remains of his breakfast, “Yeah, I think we’re good.”

“I’ll settle up the tab,” Dean pulled out his wallet and went up to the counter.

Sam followed Cas out the door, throwing a look back to make sure his brother was tied up at the register. “I’m serious, Cas. Back off.”

Cas wheeled to face Sam, blue eyes flashing, “No, Sam. I came when you called me. _You_ called _me_ for help. He needs me. How dare you ask me to push him away now?”

Sam felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Cas didn’t say it, but what he heard was, _It’s your fault this happened. I’m here to clean up one of your messes. Again. You did this._ He turned on his heel and walked away.

“Sam?” Dean’s voice called out behind him.

He waved without turning, “I’m walking back. I’ll see you at the hotel.” _All this time. He’s blamed me, too._

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos. It's encouraging. I have another 3500+ words still in editing, for me to read and re-read before posting. It's not done yet. There's two scenes in my head that absolutely must be written, but I'm not sure how I'm going to wrap this whole thing up. (I'm starting to feel like "This is the fic that never ends/ Yes it goes on and on, my friends.") Wish me luck.
> 
> edited to add: Dear, sweet Gummy Bears, I just watched "The Inside Man" and Dean hustles pool in it. I *swear* this was written before I watched it.

They spent the afternoon at the hotel. Dean found a “classic” movie. Sam watched it half-heartedly and surfed the internet. Dean suggested they hit a movie together, but Sam said he’d changed his mind. After supper, they headed over to the dive bar down the road. It was Thirsty Thursday, and while not crowded, full enough of regulars that there was a decent number of marks around the pool tables. The place wasn’t too rough, mostly working guys blowing off steam after hours. A few youngsters flirting, maybe a drug deal in the bathroom, but all pretty tame.

The trio set up at the bar and watched the pool tables, sizing up the competition and grabbing a few drinks.

“What can I getchya?” the bartender smiled and leaned over the bar to hear them, her red hair falling forward.

“I’ll take something brown in a shot glass,” Dean looked at Cas who eyed the assortment of bottles lined up against the mirror. “Something fruity for my friend.” He put a few bills down.

The bartender’s smile broadened and she looked to Cas, “With an umbrella?” She winked, “I like the umbrellas.” Dean thought that very believable, since she looked like she just stopped playing with My Little Ponies a few years ago.

“Yes, please. I’d like that,” Cas replied.

“Hey, Carly!” a scruffy guy in his mid-twenties down the bar called out.

Her smile tightened, “Just a minute, Jace.” She turned her attention to Sam, clearly liking with what she saw.

“Just a beer, thanks,” Sam turned his eyes from the pool tables and gave a perfunctory nod before looking away again. Carly’s smile faded and she went about getting their drinks.

Cas was quite impressed with his pink drink and tiny umbrella. Dean downed his shot, signaled for another, and went back to watching the players. Sam tipped back his bottle, gagged, sputtered and coughed.

Dean thumped him on the back, “You okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” He picked up a napkin, and blotted the beer from his chin. He put the bottle down and braced his hands on the bar. Dean shook his head and turned back to the game. Sam cleared his throat. Carly put another napkin down on the bar in front of him. “You know what? I’ll have what he’s having,” he gestured to Dean.

Sam downed two, matching his brother. He felt the tightness in his chest relax as the warmth spread. He signaled for another to Carly. She held up a hand motioning for him to wait, but her eyes lingered and she smiled.   

Dean turned to Sam, “You ready?”

“You go ahead.”

Dean looked surprised, “Okay.” He looked down at the shot glasses, “Pace yourself, Sammy.”

“Ha ha.”

Dean set off for the tables, Cas in his wake.

Carly set down another shot, “You didn’t come to play pool?”

“I thought I did,” Sam looked down at his drink, then back to Carly. She leaned in to be heard.

“You might want to slow down.”

“I can handle it,” he picked up the glass.

“I hear that a lot from guys like you.”

“You know a lot of guys like me?” he held her eyes and downed the shot.

She blushed, “Well, no.”

Sam leaned in and spoke into her ear, “I don’t think you’ve ever met anyone like me.”

“CAR-ly!”  

Sam sat back on his stool. The young redhead was clearly flustered. She called down the bar, “Coming!” Sam raised his eyebrows and she laughed breathlessly, turning her attention back to work.

Sam observed Dean and Cas. Dean was showing off for the angel. Not that he didn’t deserve some bragging rights. Dean had been playing pool for decades. He wouldn’t bring in much cash tonight with that swagger, but he was fun to watch.

Carly took off her apron, “Cecily, I’m taking a break.” She looked toward Sam and disappeared in the back. Sam shot a furtive glance toward Dean and went out the front.

He found her in the shadows of the loading bay, leaning against the painted cinder block wall. She was nervous, but trying hard not to look it. “Hi.”

He leaned against the wall on his forearm, towering above her, “Hi.”

She had to tilt her head back to look at him, exposing her pale throat. He gripped her waist, just under her untucked shirt and rubbed his thumb against her bare skin. Her lips parted and he kissed her. Carly tasted of lemon-lime and berries. She felt so small in his arms. So fragile. His hunger overwhelmed his scruples. He kissed her harder and her fingers dug into his shoulder and back, urging him on. He reached down, rutched up her skirt and felt the wet heat between her legs.

She let out a soft cry and rose up on her toes. He pushed her panties aside and explored her folds. She gasped against his chest when he found her clit, and she reached down to rub the hard length of him through his jeans. He groaned and released her. She undid his belt and zipper, reached under the elastic band of his boxers, and teased the head of his cock, slick with precum. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft. He pushed against her, but she braced her arms against the wall and turned her head, “Wait.”

She pulled a condom out of her pocket. He nodded and took it from her. He pushed his pants down and rolled it on while she wiggled out of her panties. She left her skirt on, pushed up. Even in the dim light, the pale skin of her arms and legs glowed. He lifted her against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around him. He eased her down and pushed into her. She was ready, but maybe unaccustomed to a man of his size. She cried out, but clung to him and he drove into her. She was hot and tight, and her moans just increased his excitement. He closed his eyes, and rode the tidal wave of sensation without thought. It was over too soon.

She put a leg down and he slipped out of her. He felt a twinge of regret that she didn’t achieve orgasm, but Carly kissed him and breathed an appreciative, “Wow!” He discarded the condom on the ground and they adjusted their clothing. She patted at her hair, “Is it okay? I have to go back to work.”

He reached out and combed the back with his fingers. “I think you’re good.”

“Thanks,” she smiled and winked. She gestured towards the back door, “I’m just gonna...”

“Yeah, okay.”

She turned, a bit unsteady on her feet, and went back inside.

Sam checked himself over and walked around the front, still exhilarated from the encounter. His bar stool was taken, so he motioned to Carly for another drink, paid, and took it with him.  Cas nodded as Sam came to stand near him in the corner, out of the way of the players.

Dean wrapped up his match, smiling and laughing with the men around the table. He handed his pool cue over to someone else and picked up his meager winnings. Dean motioned for Cas and Sam to follow and they sat at a table. Sam faced the bar across from Dean and Cas and smiled at Carly.

“You are dr-unk,” Dean reached over and stole Sam’s shot.

Sam shook his head at his brother and signaled Carly for another round. She nodded. Before Sam could get his hand down, he realized he’d gotten somebody else’s attention as well. The scruffy youngster, Jace, looked from Sam to Carly, lunged across the bar and seized her arm. He yelled something in her face and she pulled back hard, slipping from his grip. Sam stood up, quickly followed by Dean and Cas. Jace turned angrily and barreled toward the younger Winchester. Instead of deflecting the tackle, Sam took it straight-on in the midsection. The pair flew backwards, breaking Sam’s chair and toppling the table.

Jace was smaller, but quick and well-muscled. He got a few good punches in before Dean clocked him. Jace lay dazed on the floor, but Sam recovered quickly and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean, backed by Cas. Jace’s friends at the bar were coming toward them. Dean held up his hands, “We don’t want any trouble.” He reached in his pocket and tossed a few crumpled bills on a table. They backed toward the front door and nobody followed. Carly looked wistfully at Sam across the room and he shrugged his shoulders. Dean looked sideways at his brother, and then they were out the door. They walked briskly to the car, and Dean wasted no time in getting them back on the road toward the hotel.

Sam probed his left cheek and the corner of his mouth. They hurt. And it felt good. He laughed.

Dean looked over at him, alarmed, “What the hell was that about?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“A girl.”

“The redhead? _My Little Pony?_ ”

“What? Dean, she’s not _that_ young.”

Cas piped up, “She _is_ a bartender.”

They pulled into the hotel and got out of the car. Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder, “Did she at least give you free shots?”

Sam nodded, “Yup.”

“You are drunk,” Dean smiled and walked ahead.

 


	13. Chapter 13

They left town the next day. Maybe because Dean was bored, or maybe because he couldn’t play pool down the road anymore. They picked up a thin lead on a possible Wendigo in Wisconsin. Just outside of Kansas City, though, a report rolled in that more of the campers had been found, alive.

“Who knew? Camping and bath salts just don’t mix,” Dean pulled away from the pump and parked to the side.

Cas leaned forward, “Did they say bath salts?”

Sam shook his head, “Nah, just drugs.”

“You think it’s a cover up?”

“Well, it’s only one dead camper, and the rest are just freaked out and still coming down. I’m thinking if it was something in our wheelhouse, there’d be more bodies.”

Dean sighed. He checked the rearview mirror, “Cas, you still with us?”

“Yes. I’m reading.” The newspaper rustled. “Have you ever eaten a pake?”

“Pake? What is that? A fish?” Dean tilted his head.

Sam interjected, “No, you’re thinking of pike. Pike are fish.”

Cas refolded the paper. “A pake is a pie baked inside a cake.”

“I don’t know why someone would do that,” Dean raised his eyebrows, “but it sounds worth investigating.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “I don’t know about pake, but we can stop for pie and I’ll find us a case.”

Dean grinned.

*****

 

“She could’ve just gone crazy after finding her daughter,” Dean was driving east toward Vermont. Sam kept offering, but Dean would rather stop and sleep than let Sam drive.

“No, the mom went first. The dad has no idea what happened. He came home from work and found them.”

Dean shuddered, “Losing a parent like that is awful, but offing herself right then and there? Personally, I hope it’s a case.”

They drove through the night and into the next day despite Cas’s suggestion to stop. They pulled up to the small yellow cape late in the afternoon. There was a car in the drive, but nobody answered the door. No movement in the house. They let themselves in, armed and cautious.

“Hello?” Sam called out. Nothing.

They cleared the downstairs and headed up to check the bedrooms. Cas hung back, looking over the family photos in the living room.

Sam was checking the daughter’s room, covered in posters and knickknacks when Dean called out from the master bedroom. He covered the distance of the hallway with a few strides just as Dean shut the master bathroom.

“I found the dad.”

“What?”

“He’s bled out in the tub. Sliced his wrists, just like his wife.”

“He’s dead? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Dean grimaced and moved away from the door.

Cas moved along the wall toward the bathroom.

Dean shook his head, “Don’t go in there.”

“We should look for a note.”

“I didn’t see one.”

“I’m going in,” Cas pushed the door open and Dean started looking around the bedroom for clues.

Sam watched Dean rifle though papers and trinkets. “I’ll go check the study.”

Dean tinkered with the EMF meter. “I don’t smell any sulphur, do you?”

Sam whiffed the air and shook his head, “No.”

Cas shut the door behind him and shook his head in response to their questioning looks. “I’ll double-check the daughter’s room.” Sam went out the door ahead of Cas.

Dean pocketed the EMF meter. He sat in front of the vanity and opened the top drawers. A receipt, and some yellowed pictures scrawled in crayon. He shut the drawer and sighed heavily, feeling the tragedy more intimately. He thought about the few drawings of Sam’s, lost when Bobby’s burned down. He remembered picking on Sam for his childish doodles, even though he was secretly thrilled when Sam went through a phase of drawing him with a cape. Dean settled back for a moment on the small stool and looked at his wan reflection. _I look like crap. Is that gray?_ He started to get up, but his reflection stilled.

 _You can stop pretending you didn’t like it._ The hair on the back of Dean’s neck stood on end.

“What?” it was barely a whisper, his reflection moved in sync with him. He stood, knocking over the stool.

Sam must have heard the sound, because he was there in a moment, “Dean?” Dean squinted and watched himself in the mirror. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What? The vanity? What happened?”

“I think it spoke to me.”

“What did it say?”

Dean scowled at his brother, “I think a piece of furniture just spoke to me. Not really important what it said.”

“Okay. What were you doing?”

“Sitting. Here.”

Sam came up close behind him. Too close. Dean moved away nervously. Sam clenched his jaw, the familiar tension surging in his chest. He righted the stool and started to sit down.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Dean gestured from the mirror to Sam.

“You’re right here, I think I’ll risk it.” The spindle stool protested under his weight. “Now what?”

“I looked in the mirror, and then it wasn’t me.”

“It wasn’t you?”

“I mean, yeah, it was my reflection, but it wasn’t me.”

Sam peered at his reflection, and moved side to side, watching it carefully. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Shut your cakehole,” Dean felt around the back of the mirror.

“Anything?”

“No. Nothing.”

Sam propped his elbows on the vanity, looking hard at his reflection, then back to his brother. Dean took a few steps back and leaned on the door jamb. Cas appeared behind him in the doorway.

“I don’t see anything, Dean,” Sam looked back at his reflection.

 _He doesn’t need you anymore, you colossal fuck up._ All the air went out of Sam. He blinked, but his reflection didn’t. _You ruin everything you touch._

“Sam?” Cas stepped forward and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. The spell was broken.

Sam shook his head and took a deep breath. He stood up, hauled back and punched the mirror with all his might.

“Whoa, there!” Dean grabbed his elbow. The mirror was spiderwebbed, the backing splintered, and the plaster scarred from the vanity rocking backward with the impact. “You saw it too?!”

“Yeah. I saw it.” Sam clenched his hand.

“I’m not sure that’s going to be enough to put this thing out of commission.”

Sam didn’t stay to listen to more. He stalked down to the car to leave Dean and Cas to clean up the mess.

*****

Dean passed the receipt to Sam when he slid behind the wheel, “Found this in the vanity.”

“Carriage House Antiques,” Sam read aloud. “Is this for the vanity?”

“Read the description. They replaced the mirror.”

“Oh.”

“Apparently they do repairs. Check the date.”

“That’s just a few days before the suicides.”

Cas climbed in the back. Dean looked over his shoulder.

“I put the Rosemary back in the spice rack,” Cas explained.

“Of course you did.”

“You ran a cleansing spell?” Sam smoothed the tape on his bandaged hand.

“Yeah, just in case.” Dean nodded toward Sam’s bandage, “How’s the hand?”

“It’s fine,” Sam squinted at the slip of paper. “Says they close at 4.”

Dean turned the key, “Not for us,” checked the blind spot and pulled away from the curb.

“We’ll need to speak to the owner.”

“Business hours would be better,” Cas suggested.

“Buzz kill,” Dean muttered.

*****


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This must be what going mad feels like. I had to go backwards in my draft and add scenes that I didn't know needed to be written until today. Luckily, I hadn't published too far ahead, so I can fit them in order without going back to edit. Of course, the chapter divisions here continue to be problematic. Also, still toying with adding more tags. Suggestions are welcome.

Half past midnight. Dean sat in a chair at the table cleaning the guns. Sam watched something on animal planet with Cas, distractedly picking at the bandage on his hand and taking pulls off a bottle of whiskey. Dean glanced at Sam from time to time, waiting for him to relax, but though his movements grew heavier, he emanated agitation.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Sam swung his legs off the bed.

Dean raised his eyebrows, “It’s the middle of the night.”

“And it’s the middle of nowhere. I’ll be fine.” Dean shifted uneasily in his seat, but Sam ignored him and looked to Cas, “I’ll be back in an hour. I’ll call you if I need you.”

Cas nodded and Sam headed out.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. _I’m not even worth listening to anymore?_

“He needs space to think,” Cas came over and sat next to Dean.

“I wasn’t aware that thinking required space.”

Cas opened his mouth to respond, looked at Dean, and closed his mouth again. Dean furrowed his brow and looked down, acknowledging his petulance. He put his gun down and rubbed his hand with a rag. He thought about today at the house. How Sam in his personal bubble made his stomach clench. So, he wanted him within sight, but not too close? _You can stop pretending you didn’t like it._ He scrubbed harder at the grime.

Cas reached over and put his hand over Dean’s, “Do you want to talk?”

“Do I ever?”

“Sometimes.”

“Well, now is not one of those times,” he withdrew and went into the bathroom to wash his hands. Cas’s hand had felt good on his. Warm, comfortable, protected. _Weak. Coddled._ He turned off the water, leaned on the sink and let his head sag. He felt bone-tired. He reached down for the anger against the demon that attacked him, but it eluded him. _Of course you got raped. Your whole life is a series of tragedies. You wondered what it might be like to get fucked by a man, and now you know._ He shut the bathroom door, as if Cas might see his thoughts drifting out. He pressed the heel of his palm on his forehead. _No_. He forced himself to think of Cas’s kiss, imagine his gentleness. _Cas would never hurt me like that._ Flashes of the rape intruded. His bruised, scraped wrists. He rubbed the unmarked skin. He felt echos of pain radiate upward in his gut. _You really think he’s going to stay? Love you? More like babysit._ He shook his head, opened the door and stepped out. “Cas?”

Cas came to him, blue eyes questioning. Dean reached out, pulled him close and kissed him, warding off the hateful thoughts and memories. He closed his eyes, pouring all his focus into the moment. The taste of Cas. The feel of him. He breathed Cas in, felt the angel’s hands on the small of his back. He rubbed his face against his stubble, dropping his attention to Cas’s neck.

Cas gasped, “Dean?”

Dean pulled and pushed at the trenchcoat, the tie, the shirt. He wanted to be closer. He needed to be closer. The trenchcoat fell to the floor and he yanked off his own buttondown. He maneuvered Cas backward to the bed, pulling off his tie. The back of Cas’s knees hit the bed and Dean pushed him down. Their eyes met and they moved together, further up the bed. There was too much space between them. Dean braced his arm on one side, lying on top of his partner, kissing him hungrily and unbuttoning his shirt with his other hand. Cas stopped Dean’s hand on his shirt. Dean ducked to lick his neck and suck on the tender skin down to his clavicle. Cas moaned and his protesting hand went limp and then reached up to hold the back of Dean’s head. Dean wedged his hand under Cas’s hips and ground against him. They were hard against each other now, and Dean fell back to kissing Cas’s mouth. Sucking, nibbling, exploring, learning the rhythm of how Cas most liked to be kissed. What made him hold his breath, moan or make small whimpering noises. Cas reached between them to caress Dean through his jeans. He pushed the angel’s hand away and rubbed the length of Cas’s hardness with his open hand.

Cas’s eyes rolled back and he groaned, his breath quickening. “Dean, I- I’m…”

Dean studied the pink flush rising from beneath Cas’s shirt and spreading up to his face. He ground against Cas feeling his own climax build. Cas’s shoulders rose off the bed, and watching him, hearing him, Dean came, not even realizing how close he’d been himself.

They panted, sharing the air between them until more movement was possible. Dean rolled off, to one side, spent. They lay there for some time and Cas raised his head to look at the time.

“Mmmph?” Dean tightened his hand around Cas’s waist.

“Sam may return soon.”

“Let him.”

“Dean,” Cas turned his head toward him.

Dean opened his eyes, “You embarrassed to be with me?” he smiled.

“Don’t be foolish.”

“That would be, because I’m so pretty,” Dean bit his lower lip.

“Dean,” Cas admonished.

Dean kissed him lightly on the mouth and sat up, putting his feet on the floor. “I’ll go get cleaned up first.” Cas reached around Dean’s waist and hugged him from behind. “Hey, now, I thought you wanted me to get up.”

“Not exactly,” but he released Dean’s waist and the hunter stood.

Dean turned, his eyes soft, and smiled a half smile at Cas still reclined on the bed. He sighed and went into the bathroom.


	15. Chapter 15

“I’ll be fine,” Sam said. Dean shifted uneasily in his seat, but Sam ignored him and looked to Cas, “I’ll be back in an hour. I’ll call you if I need you.”

Cas nodded and Sam headed out. He walked toward the front office. He’d noticed there was coffee “all night” according to the sign. He was sure it would be awful, but it would give him the excuse he needed to be in the lobby. Midnight at this location there was almost no chance of a late night check-in.

The doorbell dinged as he entered, and the pretty blonde behind the counter put down her book expectantly. He pointed toward the coffee pot.

“Um, it’s a few hours old. I can make a fresh pot.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, that’d be nice. Or I can do it.”

“No, I got it.” She moved around the counter. “It’s my job.”

He hung back, watching her move.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Could be the coffee,” she teased and dumped out the old grounds and filter.

“Ah, no. I just keep irregular hours.”

“You travel a lot for work?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you do?”

He hesitated.

“If I can ask.”

“I work with my brother. We’re consultants. Exterminator consultants.”

“What about that other guy? In the trenchcoat. He’s not a coworker?”

“Yeah, yeah, he is, but you know, he’s new and this is the family business.”

“Oh, I thought he might be family.”

Sam frowned and considered this.

“Don’t mind me. It’s just late and my manners have fallen asleep.” She poured water into the machine and flicked the switch. She turned to him and extended her hand, “Hi, I’m Rachelle, and I was born without a filter.”

Sam smiled and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sam, and I have a disgusting job with insane hours and no social life.”

“Aw!” She laughed, “Well if you’re lonely why don’t you have a seat and we’ll wait for the coffee to finish brewing?”

It really is easier when you don’t care about the other person. When it’s all about charm and the end goal. Within the hour she was bent over in the linen closet, him slamming into her and her amorous cries muffled by piles of terry towels.

*****

After breakfast, they headed over to the antique store. Not a downtown location, Carriage House Antiques was indeed a remodeled carriage house, sitting up the hill from the sleepy lakeside village. A shopkeeper’s bell rang as they entered. Sam looked up. _Quaint_. He waited for Cas to enter and shut the door. The downstairs showroom was full of furniture and lined with books. It had the slight mustiness of all antique stores, but also vanilla, leather, and wood stain.

The proprietor, a diminutive man resembling a bespectacled baby bird, emerged promptly behind a glass display case filled with bric-a-brac. He took one look at the trio, paled and opened his mouth wide, black smoke rising.

“ _Spiritus immundus omnis te exorcizamus_!” Sam rattled off the incantation quickly and the demon was held in his possessed form.

Dean rounded the counter, brandishing Ruby’s knife. The shopkeeper grabbed anything in his reach and threw it at Dean. The hunter deflected books with his hand, and ducked what looked like a very heavy jewelry box. Sam moved to flank the demon, and the demon retreated into the backroom, straight into Castiel, who promptly smote him. The body of the shopkeeper thunked to its knees and then facedown on the carpet, smoldering.

Dean dropped his defensive stance, “Cas!”

Cas’s open expression clearly said, _What?_

Sam rubbed his forehead, “We were going to question him.”

“Ah,” Cas looked from Sam to Dean. “Sorry.”

Dean shook his head, walked back to the front door and flipped the sign from “open” to “closed”. Cas picked up a few books, examined them and reshelved them.

Sam moved behind the counter, looking around and under the register. He pulled out a short stack of receipt books and started flipping through them, “I think I got something.” Cas and Dean converged on him. “Look, at the handwriting. Here, and here.” He set two receipt books side by side. “They’re different. I bet I can figure out when the demon possessed this guy.”

“We’re going to track _every_ sale?” Dean groaned and rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think we have to. A demon couldn’t have a store full of cursed objects on display, it would be a disaster. But if he cursed items in for repair, he’d keep them in the back room and guarantee someone would be in to pick them up.”

Cas nodded, “That is very clever.”

Sam couldn’t tell if Cas meant him or the demon, so he shrugged.

“Great, bring those along and we’ll cross-reference.” Dean snagged a telephone book and Sam double checked the receipt books, bagged them and followed Dean and Cas out the door. Dean grabbed a canister of fuel from the trunk and walked back toward the shop.

“Dean?” Sam called out.

Dean turned, “Look, we don’t have any way of testing everything in there, do we? We’d have to cleanse everything, one at a time just to be safe, and try not to get ourselves cursed. You wanna do that?”

A pained look crossed Sam’s face, and he nodded.

“Do you need help?” Cas offered.

“No, sadly, I’ve done this a few times.” Dean disappeared into the store.

They spent the following few days knocking on doors, breaking in houses, and in general, being beneficent pests, con men, and thieves.


	16. Chapter 16

They were headed west across Iowa when the call came. Dean’s phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. He was instantly annoyed, “What do you want, Crowley?”

Sam and Cas sat up in their seats. Sam killed the radio, and they strained to listen.

“Now, now. You act as if I only call when I want something from you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“That hurts my feelings, Dean.”

“I’m waiting.”

“You can unbunch your panties, sweetie. I have a special package for you.”

“If it’s a severed head in a box, I’m not interested.”

“You might be.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Saint Paul.”

Dean’s knuckles turned white on the wheel. He checked the rearview and pulled over.

“I thought that might get your attention. This twat is gumming up the works, and normally I’d get rid of her myself, but I thought you might want an opportunity, to… give her a proper send off.”

“Her?”

“Trina. A truly classless half-wit that has no place in my organization.”

Dean looked out at the sideview mirror, and rubbed his lower lip with his knuckle.

“Hello? Dean?”

Sam reached over and took the phone from him. “Crowley?”

“Hello there, Moose.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Your undying fealty to me,” he said flamboyantly and paused. “Nothing. This is a just a token of friendship and mutual respect.”

“ _Mutual_ respect?”

“Do you want her or not?”

“Where?”

“How does Vegas sound? I know it has sentimental value for you.”

“Fine. We’ll call when we get in.”

“Lovely. I’ll have the-” Sam hung up. He looked over to Dean, who watched a car go by.

“Vegas.”

“I heard.”

Cas shifted in his seat, “We’re going?”

Dean looked over the steering wheel. “I need a minute.” He killed the engine, got out and walked to the rear passenger side of the car and leaned on it, looking out at the cornfields.

Sam and Cas waited five, ten, fifteen minutes. Another car passed, coating the windshield in dust. Sam looked at Dean in the mirror. He pulled the handle on his door and got out. He heard Cas sigh before it latched. Sam leaned on Baby next to Dean. Dean looked down at Sam’s boots, and then back out to the farmland.

“This is what we wanted.”

Dean shook his head, “Not like this.”

“Dean, we don’t even have to hunt it. We didn’t have a name or a trail. Nothing. And now-”

“Now Crowley has hi-,” he paused, “ _her_ , and you think that’s a good thing?”

Sam looked at Dean’s profile, exasperated. “Yeah, Dean. I do.”

Dean’s green eyes pinned his. His lip trembled almost imperceptibly and he rubbed it with his knuckle and turned away again. “Don’t you get it? This means he knows, Sam. He _knows_. _They_ know.” His nostrils flared and his eyes welled up with tears. “They’re laughing at us.” He closed his eyes and set his teeth, trying to push it all down. A few tears escaped.

Sam waited, listening to the light breeze in the tall grass. Dean looked back out at the landscape. Sam nodded slowly, “I don’t care. I just want to kill it.”

Dean breathed out through his nose and cleared his throat.

“I’ll do it alone if that’s what you want.”

Dean’s jaw muscles jumped and he stood away from the Impala, facing Sam. “You think I can’t?”

“I didn’t say that. I just meant-”

“I know what you meant. I am still your big brother. Stop treating me like I’m some delicate flower.”

“I didn’t. I-”

“Just because I’m having a hard time doesn’t mean I can’t get the job done.”

Sam stood away from the car and pulled on Cas’s door.

“No!” Dean pushed the door shut again and got right up in Sam’s face, “You callin’ for backup?”

“Dean, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” he pushed Sam against Cas’s door. Cas slid across the seat inside, toward the other door. “You and Cas. You’re handling me!” he pushed Sam again.

Sam raised his open hands, refusing to engage, but his spine was ramrod straight. “Dean, don’t.”

Dean set his jaw, punched Sam in the gut and it was on. Sam launched from the side of the car, tackled Dean and they rolled down into the dry, grassy ditch.

Cas just missed getting clipped by the pair and called out, “Sam! Dean!” but stayed clear of the fray.

Dean got the upper hand quickly and straddled Sam. He grabbed his collar with one hand and pummeled him with the other. Sam reached up to hit him, but Dean deflected with his forearm and landed another blow. Then another. And another. Dean raised his fist again, but it wouldn’t come down. Cas had him.

“Dean! Stop.” Cas held his arms, supernaturally strong and implacable.

Dean caught his breath and the world came back into focus. Sam coughed, his diaphragm spasming under Dean. He turned his head and spit blood. “Sammy?” Dean recoiled, up and away from Sam, away from Cas’s touch. He sat down hard a few yards off.

Cas reached down to Sam, but Sam waved him off, “No. Don’t. Don’t touch me.” His nose was bleeding into the back of his throat and he rolled on his side, gagging. He spit blood out again.

Cas surveyed his companions helplessly. Dean sat apart from them, holding his right hand in his lap. Sam had a broken nose and probably a concussion.

“Sam,” Cas’s voice was low and soft.

The tall man shook his head and raised himself up on his elbows, “I’ll be fine.” He sat up all the way, thought better of it and adjusted himself on the incline of the ditch. He prodded at his nose and cheekbone.

“Let me heal you.”

“I said _I’ll be fine_.”

Dean stood gracelessly and approached his brother. Sam sat up, propped on his hands in the grass, his face turned upward, eyes downcast. His face had started to swell and there was a cut across the bridge of his nose and it now veered to his right. It hurt like hell, but he didn’t move. The pain felt familiar and... right. If Dean hit him again, he’d take it.

“Oh no,” Dean knelt, put his hands on his brother’s shoulders, then took his brother’s face in his hands gently turning it to the side, “No, no.” Sam looked up at him. Other than violence, it was the most contact they’d shared since that night. Dean sobbed and gasped, still looking at him, not even trying to hide his tears, “Look what I did to you.” He looked up at Cas, “Look what I did.”

Sam didn’t know if it was Dean’s prolonged touch or his unabashed tears, but it felt like something in his chest broke and he began to cry too. Dean sat beside him and put his arm around him and Sam leaned into him and wept. He couldn’t remember ever crying like this _with_ his brother. _Not even as a kid._

The landscape swallowed the sounds of their breakdown. A family of corvids bickered in the corn.

Castiel waited awkwardly, “Should I go back to the car?”

Sam surprised himself when he laughed, and then Dean laughed. They were a mess. Sam sat up and held out the hand on his free side, “Come here.” Cas sat down beside him and Sam squeezed his shoulders. He looked from Cas to Dean and back, smiled and winced.

“Now may I heal you?”

“Yes, please.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

Dean spotted the hacienda themed hotel outside of Flagstaff and pulled in. “I don’t know about you, but I want a good five hours of sleep at least before we hit Vegas.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam yawned. “You and Cas wanna check in and I’ll grab some food?”

“Burgers?”

Sam pulled a face showing his disgust.

“Well, whatever you get, make sure you get me something greasy or cheesy. Or both.”

“Sure thing. Cas?”

“I’m fine with anything.”

“Okay,” Sam got out of the car, stretched and wandered east down along the strip toward the food franchises and vendors they’d passed on the way in.

Dean and Cas checked in at the front desk and made their way down the long hall to the suite. The terra cotta walls glowed in the afternoon sun. Dean and Cas set down the bags, Dean touched the bright geometric patterned bedspread and nodded with approval.

“Dean, can we talk?”

“If you want to talk about Vegas again, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It could be a trap. I should be there,” Cas squared his shoulders with Dean.

“We’re meeting Crowley, Cas, and you can’t come with. You know that.”

“Like hell.”

Dean turned away from Cas and smiled. Cas’s cursing was improving, but it always sounded funny to him. He sighed, rubbed his face with his hand, and faced Cas, hands on his hips. “You wanna come to Vegas with us, you do that, but you’re not walkin’ in there with us.”

“How do you know he even has the right demon?”

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again.

“How can you trust Crowley?”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I trust him about as far as I could throw him.”

“He’s not very big.”

Dean paused, not sure how to respond.

Cas continued, “You trust him more than you know.”

“Alright, maybe we do, but Crowley has trusted us too. We’re going to go in there, check it out, gank a demon, and then-”

“Then you owe Crowley?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, but I think I’m willing to risk owing Crowley a little something for this.”

Cas adjusted the lampshade, studiously avoiding eye contact.

“I was going to say, we’ll kill the demon, leave and then _I’ll call you_.” He came up behind Cas and put his hands on the angel’s shoulders. Cas crossed his arms. “Do you think Crowley in a penthouse suite is more dangerous than any of the other stuff we’ve faced?”

Cas reached up and touched one of his hands. “You’re not invincible.”

“I need to do this. Sam and I, we need to do this.”

Cas sidestepped. “I am not going to agree that this is a good idea,” he turned, “but I won’t stop you.”

Dean moved close, putting his hands on Cas’s waist. Cas eyes met his and dropped to his mouth, before he looked off to a corner of the room, frowning.

“You’ll come when I call?” Dean pressed his thumbs against Cas’s hips.

“You know I will.”

Dean bowed to kiss Cas, but hovered above his mouth, waiting for the angel to meet him halfway. Cas said, “You’re trying to placate me.”

Dean held his ground. His lips brushed Cas’s as he spoke, “Maybe.” He smiled and moved his lips over Cas’s, kissing him lightly, “Is it working?”

Cas nodded and leaned into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one more scene written that's still sitting in draft for more editing. I have thoughts on further scenes, but they need more time to percolate and my brain needs a little rest. I will post another chapter tomorrow, but it will be a few days to a week before an update unless I get a flogging from my inner muse.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is it for a few days (to a week). I need to rest and mull over some new scenes. 
> 
> If there's something you particularly like in this fic, please leave a comment. (You can point out flaws too, if you want.)

A well-coiffed woman in a power suit met them at the front desk and accompanied them up the elevator to the penthouse. Sam and Dean tensed at the dozen or so demons waiting when the doors opened, but the demons parted quickly, some fearfully, to make way for the Winchesters. Their escort led the way to the suite, and motioned for them to wait. She knocked, waiting for consent from within. Instead they heard Crowley roar, “I said OUT! Out! I am the _King of Hell_. I can have _alone time_ with whomever I choose. Now bugger off!” A handful of businessmen emerged tripping over each other from behind the door, veered away from the hunters and briskly made their way to the elevator.

The young woman hesitated and knocked on the open door, “Your majesty?”

Crowley appeared in the doorway, still a bit pink from shouting. He took a deep breath and composed himself, “Thank you, Vanessa. That will be all.” She backed away and turned toward the elevator. Crowley opened the door wide, nodding to them in turn, “Moose. Squirrel. Please come in.” He led the way into the posh rooms. “Would you care for a drink?”

“This isn’t a social call,” Sam planted his feet on the gleaming floor.

Crowley paused at the bar, decanter in hand. He raised his eyebrows at Dean, unsurprised by Sam’s refusal.

Dean’s hands were cold and his guts were in knots at the prospect of meeting his attacker. He meant to make good on that promise he made. His pockets were heavy with salt and various tools, but it brought him no security. Crowley’s eyes fell from Dean’s to pour the amber liquid, and Dean saw it. There around the edges of his eyes, a tiredness and a sadness. Or perhaps pity. It was gone in an instant when Crowley picked up two glasses, extending one to Dean. “Have a little something before you get to it.”

Dean nodded and unceremoniously downed the glass. He tilted his head to the side, “Oh, that was too good for that.” He placed the glass on the countertop.

Crowley smiled slightly, “Another time, perhaps.” He eyed Sam, who just stood and glowered. “Yes, well. I’ve put Trina in the ladies bath down that way through the bedroom. Please clean up in the men’s bath across the way when you’re through. No need to cause a scene when you leave.” Crowley settled on the couch with his beverage.

Sam frowned, “That’s it? Nothing else?”

“Would you like to stop for drinks on your way out?”

Sam’s nerves were taut, and if he could find an excuse to take it out on Crowley, he would. Dean slapped him on the shoulder and he jumped. Dean held on to his shoulder, steadying him. Dean moved with bravado, “Thank you, and we may take you up on that.” Dean smiled, but it never reached his eyes. “We just want to wrap this business up.”

Crowley didn’t miss a beat, “Yes of course.”

Sam thought, it was as if they were in a play and the script had nothing to do with what was actually happening.

Dean steered Sam across the room, toward the bedroom.

The heavy carpeting muted even their breathing. For a moment Dean felt like he was watching a silent film, until his momentum carried him through the door and into the bathroom. The bathroom was covered in poly sheeting. In the center of the room, bound and gagged on a folding metal chair, sat a defeated-looking petite brunette. She raised her head, her lank hair partially covering her face. He made room for Sam, and the taller Winchester shut the door behind them.

Dean started unpacking his pockets on a counter before a mirror opposite the bound demon. Salt, holy water, a syringe, pliers, a few small knives and Ruby’s blade.

Sam cleared his throat beside him, “We better be sure.”

Dean turned to eyeball the demon and nodded to Sam. Sam removed the gag.

“Ah! Fin-ally. I’ve been sooo bored.”

“Uh-huh. I bet you’re thirsty from having that gag in your mouth,” Dean shook up a water bottle with a rosary and salt.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Dean didn’t take his eyes off her, “Hold her.”

Sam forced the demon’s head back and pried her mouth open. Dean poured the holy saltwater in her mouth and over her face. She grunted, then shrieked as the steam rose.

Dean leaned against the countertop, trying to look casual, but Sam could sense his fear, and how dangerous that fear made him.

Sam stepped up, “Do you know why you’re here?”

She raised her head, “Because freelance work is underappreciated?”

Dean backhanded her, “Answer him.”

She licked the new cut at the corner of her mouth and smiled, “Either way I’m going to die, why should I say anything at all?”

Dean reached for the syringe. Sam leaned close to Trina’s ear, watching Dean with her. “You’re not going to like what he does next.” Dean began to fill the syringe with the salted holy water and the she sank back in the chair as far as she could. “Tell us.”

She turned her head quickly to face Sam, her eyes black. “Tell me, Sam, have you been able to jerk off in the shower since that night without thinking of Dean?”

Sam’s stomach lurched. “How could you-?” He looked at Dean’s horrified expression. “No, Dean, it’s not like that. I haven’t-”

Dean turned and leaned against the counter, putting the syringe back down.

Trina sang out, “Oh! Share time!” Sam elbowed her hard in the face.

Sam stepped toward Dean, but he spun away, his back against the wall. “Don’t listen to her. Dean?” Dean watched Sam’s boots. “Dean. Look at me.” Dean fought to raise his eyes to his brother’s. “I swear to you: _it was never me._ ” Dean couldn’t hold eye contact. “Let’s kill this bitch and be done with it.”

Trina laughed, shaking both of the hunters.

Dean growled, “What are you laughing at?”

“If Crowley had killed me, I never would have known.”

“Known what?” Sam asked.

“I broke you,” she spat. “What a legacy!” She looked triumphantly from Sam to Dean.

Dean looked to Sam. Sam’s eyes flickered with doubt. Dean picked up Ruby’s blade, grabbed her hair and looked her in the eyes. “You’re _wrong_. You think you broke us?” He laughed bitterly. He turned his head and pointed to Sam, “That’s my baby brother.” Sam met Dean’s eyes. “I’d die for him.” Sam squared his shoulders. “We’re going to be just fine, and you?” He looked back to Trina. “You’re going to be _nothing_.”

Dean pushed her head roughly and released her. “Come here, Sam.” Dean reached down and put the knife in Sam’s left hand, and gripped his hand around Sam’s on the hilt. They looked at each other and Sam nodded. Trina began to howl and mewl. They moved smoothly together, and slid the blade home between her ribs as she screamed.

Dean cleaned the knife off on a towel and packed up his things. They washed up across the hall, and strode out to the living room.

Crowley raised his eyes, “That was quick.”

“It’s done, that’s what counts,” Dean countered.

“If you say so.”

Sam continued moving right through the foyer door. Dean tipped his head to Crowley apologetically and the demon acknowledged him before Dean hustled out after his brother. They rode the elevator down in silence, walked out the lobby and into the cool night. The nightlife swelled around them.

They walked down the sidewalk, until Sam stopped, “I need to blow off some steam.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and then he shrugged. “I need to call Cas, but you wanna hit the tables for a bit?”

“No, I mean alone.”

Dean observed the crowd flowing and buzzing around them. “Alone? Here?”

Sam scuffed his boot, “Dean, I appreciate what you did back there, but I know you. I know this is still hard for you.”

Dean rubbed his lower lip and cleared his throat, “I meant what I said.”

“I know,” Sam thrust his hands into his pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hasn't been as thoroughly proofread as previous chapters, so if you spot something, let me know.
> 
> I'll post another scene in about a week.

Dean closed the door behind him and turned on the light. He poured himself a whiskey in the hotel tumbler and sipped it. “Cas?”

Cas appeared behind him, Dean looked over his shoulder and turned. Cas’s eyes swept over him, looking for injuries. “Where’s Sam?”

“He’s alright.” Dean poured another glass. “I think he’s alright. I don’t know. He said he’s _out for the night_.”

“What happened?”

“It’s done,” he sipped his whiskey and shrugged, eyes downcast. He rested the drink on the table. Cas reached out and put his hand over Dean’s on the glass. Dean glanced up, but withdrew from the angel’s touch, and took another sip.

Cas’s mouth tightened slightly. “And Crowley?”

“Crowley was a perfect gentleman.”

Cas raised his brows in doubt.

“No, really, Cas. We owe him, but he didn’t mention it. We just walked in, and, uh,” he put the empty glass down, “Sam and I, we finished it. Then we walked back out. It’s over.” Dean smiled disingenuously, “Miller time, right?” his hand shook as he poured another.

“Dean, you know it’s not that simple.”

“Of course not. That would be too easy,” Dean left the drink on the table, and wandered off to look out the window. He folded his arms.

Cas moved toward him, but halted a few feet away, “Everything I say seems to hurt you.”

Dean shook his head a little, his chin tucked down to his chest, “No, I just- Cas, can we not talk about it? I don’t want to talk about it. Hell, I don’t want to _think_ about it.”

Cas put a hand on his shoulder and Dean looked from the hand to Cas’s eyes, and back out the window. Cas withdrew his hand. “You’re tired. You should get some rest.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean brushed his teeth and prepared for bed, but everything felt a bit off without Sam’s presence.

He climbed under the covers. Cas sat on the couch, reading. Dean rolled on his side, away from the light.

Cas shifted on the leather couch, “Do you want me to turn the light off?”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Minutes ticked by. He turned over the day’s events in his mind. Speculated what his brother might be doing. Thought of Crowley’s sadness or pity. Wondered how many demons they passed in that hallway knew. He shifted onto his back and slung his arm over his eyes. He heard the light click off and he put his arms at his sides. “Cas?”

“Hm?”

“I said the light was okay.”

“I know. I don’t want to read anymore.”

“Don’t watch me in my sleep. It’s creepy.” He heard Cas smile.

“I’m sorry you find it disconcerting. I find it pleasant.”

Dean scoffed. “It’s stalkery. Like teen-vampire stalker-y.”

Cas chuckled, “I’ll respect your wishes.”

They were quiet again. Dean’s eyes adjusted to the dark. He felt the distance between himself and Cas keenly. “I can’t sleep.” He sighed, “Cas?”

The couch creaked, “Do you want me to help you sleep?”

“Just come here.” Dean pushed back the covers. Cas stood by the side of the bed. “Wait. You’re not wearing a trenchcoat to bed. Or shoes. Or a tie.” Cas removed the offending items. “Or a button-down shirt,” Cas didn’t move, unsure if he was correctly picking up the shift in mood. Dean scooted to the edge of the bed, stood before Cas, and began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Cas gasped when Dean pulled his shirt out of his pants and Dean covered his mouth with his own. Cas struggled to free himself from his shirt, but the cuffs were still buttoned. Dean smiled and ran his hands down Cas’s arms, stilling him. He worked open one cuff, kissed Cas slowly, teasing him, and started on the second cuff. Cas didn’t wait for the shirt to hit the floor, he kissed Dean hard, and moved his hands up the hunter’s back, under his shirt. Dean pushed against him and pulled Cas’s t-shirt up over his head. Cas shivered at the feel of Dean’s hands on his skin. He plucked at the hem of Dean’s shirt, but Dean put his hands over Cas’s and held them in place.

“What is it?”

Dean glanced at him and shook his head, “Can we just, um…” He drew in a shuddery breath, “I don’t wanna take off my shirt.”

Cas relaxed his hands and Dean leaned in again. Dean’s lips were firm and he grasped at Cas’s belt and this time it was Cas’s hands resisting. Dean panted against Cas’s neck. Cas pushed Dean gently back toward the bed, but he planted his feet, kissed Cas, and turned them both so Cas was back-to the bed. Dean urged him to lie down, but Cas wouldn’t comply.

“What?” Dean’s voice was husky with desire and impatience.

“I don’t think we should.”

“Sam’s out for the night,” Dean nibbled on Cas’s earlobe and the smaller man’s heels came off the floor.

“It’s not that.”

Dean looked in his eyes, reached between them and touched Cas through his pants, eliciting close-mouthed moan from the blue-eyed man. Dean pushed him again and he relented, laying down on the sheets. This time when Dean reached for his buckle, Cas let him and raised his hips when he removed his pants. Dean lay atop Cas, but Cas shifted him off to the side. Dean tensed a bit, but sank back into Cas. Their mouths locked together, breathing each other in. Dean’s hands explored the new territory of Cas’s exposed skin. He lowered his mouth to Cas’s neck, thoroughly enjoying the sounds the angel made. He smiled mischievously and nibbled and sucked Cas’s nipple. Cas gasped and moaned his surprise. Dean’s cock throbbed in response.

Cas pulled him back up to kiss him, and his hand trailed down to grab his ass and hold Dean firmly against him. Dean groaned his pleasure into Cas’s mouth. Their mouths parted. Dean’s eyes were closed, his mouth open. He kissed Dean on the cheek and his green eyes fluttered open. Cas rolled back bringing Dean with him, and slid his fingers under the front band of Dean’s boxers. Dean’s hand tightened on his upper arm and his breath caught. Cas waited, he could hear Dean’s heart pounding, but with lust or apprehension, he wasn’t sure. Dean’s lids lowered incrementally and Cas’s hand strayed further south. When his fingers touched Dean’s hardness, skin on skin, Dean closed his eyes, his breathing shallow.

“Dean?”

He opened his eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t stop,” Dean pushed his boxers down.

Cas watched Dean carefully as he tightened his grip, working his hand up and down. Dean’s breathing quickened, and he closed his eyes, thrusting against him and smearing him with pre-cum. Cas’s pace sped up with his own excitement. Dean held onto Cas, panting and tossing his head, alternately resting his forehead on the angel’s shoulder. Cas changed his grip, rubbing the glans with each stroke. Dean gasped, rocking against him until his whole body stiffened, he groaned and spurted all over Cas’s fist, stomach and boxers. Cas waited for the aftershocks to pass before removing his sticky hand, and his lover collapsed at his side.

Cas didn’t wait for Dean to recover before wandering off to clean up. When he returned, Dean had pulled up his boxers. Cas donned his undershirt, climbed into bed, and arranged the covers over both of them. He draped an arm over Dean’s chest.

Dean caressed his forearm, and turned his face to Cas. He smiled, but it faded quickly, “Thank you.”

Cas raised his head, puzzled, “What for?”

“I know I’m…” _broken_ “difficult.”

Cas waited, expecting him to say more.

Dean continued, “I didn’t want you to touch me like that.”

Cas sat up, alarmed, “Why didn’t you tell me to stop?!”

He sat up, “Hold on, I’m not done.” He touched Cas’s hand, but then rubbed his mouth. “I didn’t think I’d let anybody touch me, after… Sometimes, the thought made me wanna throw up. It’s been a couple months and I still-” he took a deep breath, “Sam and I killed it, and, you know, I thought I’d feel different.” He held his breath for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, and put a hand on Cas’s shoulder, “But when we- When we’re _together_ , I feel like maybe everything’s going to be okay.”

Cas nodded, “Maybe it will.”

“And maybe it won’t,” Dean smiled wryly and his hand dropped to the bed, “Whatever. I just want to be with you.”

Cas picked up Dean’s hand and smiled, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean and Cas stared a beat too long, “Let’s get some rest,” Dean suggested.

“I don’t need to-”

“Shut up and come over here.”

 


	20. Chapter 20

Sam closed his eyes and tried not to hurl as the elevator bounced. A couple left, eyeing him warily. He punched the button impatiently and swallowed saliva. The lift lurched upwards. The doors opened and he lumbered out.

He eyed the number on his key card sleeve and compared it to the signs. He turned right. He looked right and left, but his brain would not compute. He leaned against the wall for a moment, just to breathe. _I'll just rest here for minute._

“Hey, you okay? You need some help?” a female voice he didn’t know floated in.

He opened his eyes. Laced up boots a few feet away. Sideways. _How’d I get on the floor?_

“You need help?”

He followed the legs all the way up to the face of a young woman. Brown eyes ringed in eyeliner. She looked concerned and a little afraid.

“Nah. I’m good.”

“I think this is yours.” She handed him a keycard. He sat up, still leaning against the wall.

“You better move it before someone calls security.”

He squinted at the keycard number. _Is this even mine?_ He closed his eyes again.

“Hey! You can’t sleep here.”

“Okay, okay.”

Sam rolled to his knees, pushed on the floor and held onto the wall. He ran a hand over his face and looked one way, then the other down the corridor. The young woman held a hand out as if to help steady him, but she stood back and pointed. “Your room is that way around the corner.”

He took an unsteady step and she grabbed him around the waist to steady him.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” she muttered. “Don’t fall on me, you’ll probably kill me.”

He turned his head to the small person trying to help him. “You’re nice.”

“Ugh! Don’t puke on me and if you try anything funny, I’ll cut your balls off.”

Sam laughed, “Funny.”

They made their way around the corner and she propped him against the wall and unlocked the door for him. “Here ya go.”

Sam stood against the wall, breathing.

“Right,” she rolled her eyes, put his arm around her shoulders and pushed the door. He tripped over his own feet and toppled. She fell, tangled up in him.

“Hello?!” a man’s voice called out and there was motion from inside the room. She heard the sound of a gun action.

“Don’t shoot!” she jumped up and backed into the door edge, propped open by the felled giant’s boot. “Ow! Ah!”

Dean appeared from around the corner, gun in hand and looking very serious for a man wearing a t-shirt and boxers, “Who are you?” He glanced down at Sam on the floor, but kept his gun on her.

She held up her hands, and dropped the keycard. “Nobody! I’m nobody.”

Cas came up behind him, and spoke calmly, “Dean, you’re scaring her.”

Dean lowered his gun, “Sammy?”

The young woman stepped over the drunken man’s legs and ran away.

“I’m good,” Sam was muffled by the carpet.

Dean rolled Sam over and waved his hand at the fumes rolling off him. “Yeah, you smell like you’ve been having a _great_ time.”

Cas moved around the pair and lifted Sam’s knees so the door could swing shut.

“Where’s the girl? She was nice.”

“I think Dean frightened her.”

“Oh,” Sam rubbed his numb lips, “I didn’t puke on her.”

“That’s nice, Sammy.” Dean put his gun away. “Very polite.”

“I was gonna stay out all night, but I think Jewel stole my wallet.”

“Jewel?”

“Jules? Julie? Jewel? Something.”

“You got robbed?”

“I think so.”

“You _think_ so?”

“Maybe.”

Dean sighed, “I’m not picking you up.”

“That’s fine.”

Dean looked from Sam to Cas, somewhere between irked and amused.

“Maybe it was Mandy. Mmm, Mandy.”

“You don’t know if her name was Jewel or Mandy?”

“Noooo. Mandy had black hair.”

Cas touched Dean’s arm gently, “I’ll get him a pillow.”

Sam rolled on his side, lifted his head slightly, put it back down, and groaned. “Deeaaan?”

“Yeah, bud?’

“I’m gonna throw up.”

“It’s alright, I got ya.” Dean helped Sam crawl to the bathroom.

Dean left Sam kneeling in front of the toilet. Cas had three buttons on his shirt fastened when Dean began to unfasten them again.

“Are you ready to talk to Sam about this?’

Sam vomited loudly.

“I don’t think he’s up for talking right now. Come back to bed,” Dean crawled back under the covers, but left them open in invitation.

Cas drew the covers up over Dean. A little wrinkle appeared between his brows. The little wrinkle that told Cas when Dean was hurt. He sat on the bed, and leaned in, his eyes on Dean’s, as if he was trying to read Dean’s thoughts.

“Don’t,” Dean protested.

“You think I was trying to read your mind?”

“Maybe,” Dean looked away.

“I wouldn’t do that. Look at me.”

Dean’s eyes met his.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean looked away.

“There’s is nothing I would see that would make me leave.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

Cas caressed Dean’s face, “I am.”

Dean smiled faintly, “Okay.”

“You should talk to Sam.”

Dean nodded, “After breakfast.” Sam heaved again. “Or lunch.”

*****

Sam looked like a douche, wearing sunglasses inside, but everything hurt. Dean’s appetite for greasy food never slowed down, but the thought of a slider made Sam want to turn his guts inside out all over again. He picked at his salad. Dean put his mug down. Loudly. He winced.

“So, just your wallet?”

“Yeah, nothing we can’t replace.”

“How’d she pick your pocket?”

Silence.

“You were so drunk you didn’t notice?”

“No, if you really need to know, I wasn’t wearing my pants at the time.”

Dean laughed, “So was it Mandy or Julie?”

Sam took a sip of ice water, irritated. “One of them. Maybe they were working together.”

Dean’s mouth fell open and he rocked back in his chair. He looked at Cas, then back to Sam. He raised his eyebrows. “ _Together?_ ”

Sam rubbed his forehead, slid the sunglasses down and looked over them at his brother. “Yes. Together.” He slid them back up with his middle finger. He knew it was incredibly juvenile, but couldn’t resist. The shock on Dean’s face was worth it, but he didn’t feel like talking anymore. He stood. “I’m done. I’m going back up.”

He slapped Dean hard on the shoulder as he walked out. Dean flinched and turned to Cas.

“What was that?”

Cas chewed his food and swallowed. “He’s acting out.”

“He’s not a cranky teenager.”

“No. I mean, he’s struggling, Dean. With… what happened.”

Dean looked down at his plate. “I’m not sure if I can talk to him about that.”

“I don't think he’ll talk to me.”

Dean sighed, “Okay.”

*****

Dean opened the door. Sam’s duffel was on the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“I need a break.”

“Oh, you mean like last night?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“So what? You’re on a booze and pussy binge? Who’s gonna help you puke in the toilet?”

“You drank and skanked all over the country for over a decade and now you’re going to give me shit?!” Sam went into the bathroom and grabbed his shave kit.

“That was me.”

Sam gestured broadly “Well this is me _now_ , Dean! This is me and I need to work through this, and you need to back off! You’re dealing with this however the hell you need to. With Cas. And that’s fine. Whatever.”

“That is not what’s happening with Cas.”

“You sure about that?” Sam jammed his shave kit in his duffel.

“I love him.”

Sam took off the sunglasses, and fixed his eyes on Dean’s. Dean looked away at the corner of the bed. Sam pocketed the sunglasses. “That’s good, Dean. I’m glad you have that.” He zipped his bag and shouldered it.

Dean blocked his path and put his hand up. “No. You’re not going it alone.”

Sam stared him down easily, but Dean didn’t budge. He still felt sick from last night. Sick and embarrassed about getting robbed. Ashamed about getting blind drunk like his father and needing Dean’s help. _I fuck up and Dean pays the price._ He tried to sidestep Dean, but he put his outstretched hand on Sam’s chest. _His hand is on the tattoo. That goddamned tattoo. Why won’t he just let me go?_

Sam stepped in, crowding his brother. Dean’s eyes widened with confusion. “You’re thinking about it right now. I see it on your face and you still won’t let me go. You think I can’t hear it, too? I hear you crying and begging and I’m not strong enough,” his voice broke. He grabbed Dean’s collar, shut his eyes and shook him, “I will _never_ be strong enough and it happens, and it happens, and _it happens!_ ” The bag slid off his shoulder.

“Sam!”

“NO!” Sam’s eyes snapped open, filling with tears. He let go of Dean, pushed past him and bolted out the door, leaving his bag behind. Dean took a few steps toward the door and halted, not sure how he would stop him, or what he could possibly say.

“Aw, hell.”

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lengthy delay. I kept trying to write a scene that did not want to be written. I finally gave up, and this is what happened.


	21. Chapter 21

“I should have stopped him. He’s not answering his phone,” Dean packed, manic.

Cas thought about putting his hands on Dean to physically stop him, but thought better of it, “Don’t you think we should stay in case he comes back?”

He halted, dropped a bundle to the bed and nodded, “Yeah. Okay.” The pause didn’t last, “You stay here in case he comes back, I’m gonna look for him.”

“Why don't we-”

“You didn’t see him Cas. I gotta find him.”

Cas opened his mouth, but Dean cut him off before he could start, “Please.”

“Alright.”

“Call me if he comes back,” Dean strode out the door.

*****

For the most part, patience is a strength of Castiel’s. A few hours’ wait is almost nothing. While initially preoccupied with the emotional turbulence of his companions, his thoughts drifted to his recent experiences with Dean, and the new feelings that came along with them. He felt a rush of excitement and love, but in its ebb, fear of loss and intense protectiveness. _I suppose humans feel this all the time._ He sank into the couch, his thoughts on the future. He was saved from further ruminations by a knock at the door.

He answered it and Sam looked him over before pushing past. Alone.

“Where’s Dean?” Cas checked the hallway before closing the door.

Pale and overheated, Sam dropped his jacket against the wall. He grabbed a water from the fridge, “I thought he’d be here. With you.” He tossed the cap toward the trash and missed.

“No, he-”

“Yeah, I got it,” he tipped the bottle back and gulped.

“Dean told me what happened.”

“Of course he did,” the flimsy plastic bottle crunched in his hand as he drained it.

“I should call him.”

“Yeah, you do that,” there was an edge to Sam’s voice.

Cas left the phone in his pocket, “He’s looking for you.”

“I’m surprised he left the room,” Sam dropped the bottle in the trash, and sat on the bed to remove his boots.

Cas tilted his head, then straightened as he approached and squared his shoulders with Sam. The younger Winchester’s hurt and anger unfurled around him. Even seated he was intimidating. He tossed one boot against the wall. Cas felt a temptation to show his wings in retaliation, “What do you mean? He’s worried about you. Of course he went-”

Sam looked around the room and his face twisted into an imitation of a smile, “It’s fine, whatever.”

Cas reached out and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, confused by his erratic behavior. Sam started at the gesture and Cas gave him a gentle squeeze. Sam dropped the second boot and leaned forward to hug Cas. Cas held him awkwardly and stroked his hair, hoping to calm him. He wanted to call Dean, but Sam’s arms were wrapped around his middle.

“Is this what you do for him?” Sam’s arms tightened and he breathed against Cas. Cas stilled. “Maybe I’d feel better if-” he rubbed his face against the angel’s shirt.

“Sam. No.” Cas tried to gently push away, but Sam wouldn’t let go. “Sam, stop.”

Sam shuddered and raised his face to look at Cas. He looked ill. “I didn’t stop it.” He loosened his arms slightly.

Cas knew he was talking about Saint Paul. “It wasn’t you.”

“No, Cas.” His eyebrows rose painfully together, “I-” He choked on the words and rested his head on Cas’s chest, struggling to master himself. After a minute, he sighed, “You don’t understand.”

Cas let him be until his breathing evened out, “Do you want me to call Dean?” Sam nodded, but Cas felt his back stiffen. “You need rest.”

Cas stepped back. Sam lay himself down, and with his unspoken consent, Cas tapped his grace and sent him into a dreamless sleep.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. It's not done yet. ;)


	22. Chapter 22

Cas was sitting on the couch when Dean returned to the room. He was quiet, even though Cas told him he helped his brother off to sleep. Sam slept fully dressed, with the exception of his boots, neatly waiting at the foot of the bed. The shades were drawn partway to dim the room. Dean moved close and smoothed back Sam’s unruly hair, to reassure himself that Sam was okay. He crept back to where Cas stood by the couch and spoke quietly, “He looks terrible.”

Cas nodded, “He’ll need to hydrate.” He sat down on the couch again. Dean shucked off his layers down to his t-shirt, grabbed a water and sat down next to him. Cas reached for Dean’s boots and Dean resisted.

“Oh, I don’t think you want to do that.”

“Please. I’ve smelled them before. They’re no worse than purgatory.”

Dean smiled, shook his head, but acquiesced. It felt peculiar, but pleasant for Cas to remove his boots. He stretched out his legs, let his feet drop on the carpet, and slung his arm around Cas. The worry of the past hours lifted from him and he hugged Cas tight, comforted that for now, his loved ones were safe.

Cas turned his blue eyes to him, “You need to talk to him.”

“I tried that and he ran.”

Cas frowned, “Maybe you need to listen instead.”

“You’re saying-” his voice rose, and then he remembered Sam. Angel spell or not it felt wrong to yell. He removed his arm from Cas, put the water bottle down on the table, looked back at Sam, and bent his head toward his lover. “You’re saying I don’t listen?”

Cas looked away, with a hint of eye roll, “I’m saying it’s crucial you listen to him now.”

“I- Well-” Dean looked at the far corner of the room, “Pfft!” and crossed his arms.

Cas let him think for a bit, and then caressed Dean’s bare skin just above his elbow. Dean pulled away a little bit and shook his head dramatically, “You’re not going to win points that easily.”

Cas put his arms around him and pulled him back into his chest, and said, “Dean,” low and drawn out. It gave Dean goosebumps.

He shifted and laid his head in Cas’s lap, gazing up at him, “It’s a good thing you’re cute.” Cas blushed deeply and Dean stroked his clavicle lightly. “You didn’t know that?”

“I’m to believe you?”

Dean licked his lips and shrugged, “Hey, it works for me.”

Cas smiled and stroked Dean’s temple. “I think we should leave Vegas.”

“Yeah, I don’t think this is a good place for Sammy. There’s too much trouble for him to get into.”

“I think he’ll sleep until later tonight. Can you rest?”

“Nah, I’m not going to be able to sleep.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Cas.

“Nothing you’re about to suggest is restful.”

Dean smirked and rolled to his knees before him, “I was just going to say, you could help me get to sleep.”

“Uh-huh.”

Dean rose and kissed Cas tenderly, “I’m going to pack, and then,” he kissed him again, “I don’t know what.”

*****

Sam woke in the dim light. The night lights streamed in through parted curtains. He could hear the cadence of his brother’s sleep. He looked at the other bed, but it was empty. He stood and circled the couch on his way to the bathroom. Dean and Cas lay entwined, sleeping in their t-shirts and underwear. Cas opened his eyes and Sam motioned for him to stay still. Dean’s head rested peacefully on Cas. Sam smiled genuinely at Cas and continued toward the bathroom. The blast of light made his eyes ache. He relieved himself, then stripped off his salt-stiff clothes and climbed into the shower.

When he emerged, towel around his waist, the lights were on and Dean and Cas were up and dressed. Clothes were laid out for him on the bed, and Dean’s bag waited at the door. He rocked back on his heels, “We got a job?”

Dean was scanning the room again out of habit, not wanting to leave anything behind, “Nah, I just figured it’s as good a time to head home as any.”

“Home?”

“The bunker.”

Sam nodded. He’d suggested it enough times in the last few months, but now he felt resistant. He thought of being alone in the bunker with Dean for days, and he didn’t want to go.

Dean glanced at Cas and then down at the keys in his hand, “Cas is gonna stay with us for awhile, ain’t that right, Cas?”

Cas looked a smidge surprised, but went along with it, “Y-es, yes. Dean is going to show me more classic movies.”

Sam smiled with relief. Nobody moved. “I’m gonna get dressed, then.”

“Right, Cas and I are gonna pack up the car and check out. We’ll see you down there.”

Sam dressed, packed up his stuff, scanned the room and opened the door. Cas was standing in the hall. Sam paused, “Afraid you’re going to lose me again?”

Cas shifted uncomfortably and examined the door jamb, “Dean is still worried.” He backed up, and they started down the hall.

Sam felt a pang of anger at being _kept_. He glanced sideways at Cas, “I take it you didn’t tell him I made a pass at you?”

“Is that what that was? Hm.”

They walked to the elevators in silence.

*****

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

“No, I don’t want to stop for burgers. _Again_. I need some real food.”

“Come on! We’re just a few hours from home,” Dean looked at him incredulously. “And burgers _are_ real food,”

“How can you eat that crap all the time?”

“Doesn’t bother me,” Dean shifted his grip on the steering wheel.

“Wait a few more years and we’ll see,” Sam muttered and crossed his arms.

“I don’t pester _you_ about your rabbit food, why don’t you-”

Cas’s head emerged between them from the back seat, “I would like some pie.”

Sam slumped toward the door and stared out the passenger window.

“Yes, thank you. Pie,” Dean smiled.

“Not the kind in sleeves. Is that really pie?”

“Kind of. Not really. Okay, we’ll stop for good pie,” Dean scanned the horizon and worked on remembering his favorite pie stops on this route.

Cas settled back into his seat again.

After a few beats, Dean realized he’d been played. He looked in the rearview and Cas stared back with a look that said, “Behave. I mean it.”

Dean glanced over at Sam, and his brother smirked, “Dude, you’re so easy.”

He scowled, “Shut up.”

*****

The diner was busy at midday. “Okay, cheeseburger with American? Would you like the cheeseburger basket with fries?”

The diner was too loud. Too bright. Dean blanched, his gaze fell to his menu and he breathed out. _It’s happening again. Just breathe, nice and slow. Keep it together, man._ The waitress looked a bit concerned and glanced at his companions.

Sam straightened up in his seat, “Yeah, he’ll have the cheeseburger and a side salad with French dressing. I’ll take the cobb salad. Cas?”

Dean squinted at his brother, “Funny.” He looked at the waitress and handed her his menu, “Yeah, that’ll be fine.” He rubbed his legs, trying to anchor himself.

“I’ll have a grilled cheese sandwich and a slice of apple pie,” Cas passed back his menu and sipped his ice water.

“Do you want the pie with the meal, or later?”

“Later will be fine, thanks.”

“Alrighty then, I’ll get your orders right in,” she took Sam’s menu and bounced off.

“You gonna share that slice of pie?” Sam teased.

Dean rolled his eyes, “She’ll be back, I can get my own.”

“I don’t mind if you share. You two looked adorable sharing the couch last night.” Dean didn’t know what to say, so he took a sip of coffee and looked at Cas who was watching Sam. “So are you two shacking up when we get back to the bunker?”

Dean did a spit take and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Sam smiled maliciously, satisfied that he’d caught him off guard.

Cas cut in, “We haven’t discussed ‘shacking up’.”

“Big surprise. You know you won’t be getting a lot of pillow talk, either.”

Dean’s chin dropped, “Sammy!”

“What, no ‘Samantha’? I notice you left off with that when you started boning Cas, Dean-o.”

Cas clenched his jaw and fidgeted with his place setting.

“We’re not-” Dean turned pink, leaned across the table and growled, “You need to shut up _right now_.”

Sam flashed a rebellious smile, but withered under Dean’s glare. He buckled, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, picked up his mug and put it back down again. He looked from Cas to Dean, back at his coffee and shook his head, “Sorry.”

“Okay then,” Dean  turned to check in with Cas. Cas looked troubled but gave a slight nod. _If I can just hold out a few more hours, I can tell him to go to his room._

*****


	24. Chapter 24

The following week, Sam and Dean sat at the table in the library opposite each other, before the glowing screens of laptops. Dean picked up a book, skimmed it, grunted, put it back down and scrolled through his browser. Sam fiddled with his phone, closed his laptop and stood, “I’m going out.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, “You want company?”

“Nah, I just need some fresh air.”

“Where you going?”

“Just out.”

Dean leaned back, “Out for the night? I was gonna grill up some steaks.”

Sam shrugged, “If you don’t want me to go, just say so.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Whatever, Dad.” Sam picked up his jacket from the chair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Hey-”

Sam shook his head and walked off. Dean scowled, but didn’t pursue. He listened to Sam’s footsteps fade on his way to the garage. He closed the book and pushed it aside. He stood, stretched, rubbed his stubble, then wandered down to his bedroom. He started up the Led Zeppelin album, already waiting on the turntable.

_In the days of my youth, I was told what it means to be a man, Now I've reached that age, I've tried to do all those things the best I can~_

He picked up the arm and put it back on its rest and laid down on his bed, hands behind his head. There was a gentle knock on his door.

“Yeah?”

Cas peeked inside, “Sam went out?” He obviously knew, it was just a perfunctory query.

“Yeah. He’s gone ‘out’. He’ll be back ‘later’.” Dean sat up and swung his legs to the bedside. “I’m gettin’ tired of his attitude. You know he actually called me ‘Dad’?”

Cas stepped into the room, sat next to him and sighed. He looked at a blank spot on the wall. “All those weeks after-” Dean tensed. Cas paused to edit himself, “He pushed all of that down and was there for you.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that,”

Cas watched Dean brush at a stain on his jeans, “It was easier then.”

Dean jerked his head up, perplexed, “Easier? What are you talking about?”

Cas continued, “He had you to think about, and… revenge, but now there’s nothing else to do.”

“There’s always something else to do. We’re working out a case right now.”

“Dean, Sam isn’t you,” he took Dean’s hand, “and you’ve had... other distractions.”

Dean studied how their fingers interlaced. _When did this become normal?_

“I’ve been thinking about leaving.”

Dean’s grip tightened, “No,” He shook his head and raised his eyes to meet Cas’s. “Sam doesn’t want that.” _Please don’t leave._ “We don’t fight nearly as much when you’re here.”

“I can’t fix this.”

Dean dropped his hand and stood, “ _Nobody_ can fix this.” He gesticulated, “ _I_ thought killing the demon would fix it. Sam thought talking would help. _You_ thought talking would help. There is _no fix_.” He put his hands on his hips. “Somehow we gotta keep going. It sucks, but then it’s always sucked, hasn’t it?!” His eyes settled on the photo of him and his mother. He turned back to Cas. “I don’t get a lot of good,” he touched the angel’s face. “I gotta hold on to what I find.”

Cas rose, face upturned. Dean wrapped his arms around him and kissed him. His hands didn’t stray under Cas’s clothing or into his hair. He just held him firmly and kissed him until they were both breathless. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Cas rested his head on Dean’s shoulder.

*****

In the morning, Sam scuffed his feet as he entered the kitchen and fumbled with the carafe. He examined the meager leavings.

Dean scraped scrambled eggs onto a plate and put the frying pan down, “Lemme make you a fresh pot.”

Sam handed it to him, “Thanks.”

Dean hesitated when he saw his brother’s abraded knuckles, but kept moving to pour the last bit of coffee into a mug. He handed it to Sam. “Did you go hunting solo last night?” He looked pointedly at his brother’s hand.

Sam shifted his coffee from one hand to the other and flexed his hand, “No.”

Dean refilled the coffee pot, dumped the used grounds, set up a fresh pot and pressed the button. “You mix it up with a civilian?”

“Yeah, I had a misunderstanding with a guy,” he touched a bruise on his jaw.

“Misunderstanding?”

Sam smiled tightly, “I didn’t know she was married.” He downed his coffee.

Dean suspected he was being goaded. “Been there. Try not to get shot.” He scooped a forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “There’s fruit in the fridge,” he pointed with his fork.

Sam, expecting a different response, frowned and put his mug down. “So, did you and Cas get some snuggle time?”

Dean picked up his plate and moved away toward the table, “Yup.”

When the coffee was ready, Sam poured himself a fresh cup and joined Dean at the table. “You’re in a good mood. Did things get real loud last night?”

Dean put down his fork, took a sip of coffee, put the mug down carefully and met his brother’s eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I’m just teasin’,” Sam laughed without warmth.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to piss me off for the hell of it, or if you’re just looking for a beating.”

Sam put down his cup, “You gonna give me one?”

“No, Sam. I’m not.” Dean put his hands on the table, “but I’d like to know why you’re itching for a fight.”

Sam shook his head, and feigned nonchalance, “You’re crazy.”

“Sam, I don’t want to play games. I’m tired of it. Now, if you don’t want to talk, we can let it slide. But I’m sick of the attitude.”

“Like Dad was always sick of my attitude?”

Dean let the question hang in the air, watching his brother. Reading him. Waiting for him to squirm. Which he did. He tucked back into his eggs, “We’ve got that case to work on. If you need more down time, I’ll go ahead with Cas.”

Sam turned the mug on the table, listening to the soft scrape of the ceramic.

*****

Dean ran from the barn, smoke billowing out behind him. He scrabbled in the dirt for something, “Sammy! SAM!!!”

He ran back inside and they both emerged, turning and firing into the smoky darkness. Dean fell to the hard-packed drive, found the wire and yanked on it. There was an explosion and the barn crumpled, flames spouting into the night sky. They coughed and wiped their eyes with their sleeves, stumbling toward the Impala. Sirens approached, and, not wanting to answer any questions to local law enforcement, they hauled ass out of there.

Dean coughed and shot a look over his shoulder at the amber glow above the trees. Sam let his head fall back on the seat and started laughing.

“What the fuck?! You play it any closer than that, I’d be cleaning up your guts with a dustpan! Fuck!”

Sam laughed until he coughed.

“Fuck,” Dean gripped the steering wheel and turned onto the blacktop.

Sam pressed play on the tape deck. Dean switched it off.

“Calm down,” Sam stowed his sidearm. “We’ve been in tighter spaces.”

“That was reckless. You could have gotten us both killed.”

“Least I have chicken,” Sam muttered.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Nerd.”

“Bitch.”

Dean swung the car into the breakdown lane and slammed it into park. He grabbed him and shoved him hard.

“I am not fucking kidding around, Sam! You wanna die?! You wanna take me with you?!”

Dean shoved him again and Sam’s head banged against the window. “Ow!” He giggled.

“Are you _high?!_ ” Dean let go of him and sat back.

“No, you know I don’t do that.”

“Well, no, I don’t know. That was just stupid.”

Sam rubbed the back of his head and settled back into his seat. Dean didn’t shift gears. “I hear Malcolm is setting up a hunter’s camp in New Mexico. I’m thinking about heading down there.”

“What, so I don’t have to see you get killed? I’ll just get a phone call? No thanks.”

“I…” Sam stared down at his lap. Time crawled by. “I just want it to stop.”

Dean held his breath.

“I can’t make it stop. I’ve tried.”

Dean’s voice was low and quiet, “Make what stop?”

Sam turned his head and looked at Dean. There were tears in his eyes, “I don’t think I’m gonna make it this time.”

“The hell you aren’t. If I can live with this, so can you.”

Sam shook his head and wiped at his tears. He looked out the windshield, “All this is my fault. You don’t understand.”

“I already told you, I don’t blame you about the salt. We fucked up.”

“No. Not that.” Sam thumped his hand against the door. “I stopped fighting, Dean,” he drew in a shallow breath, “When I-” he clenched his jaw, “When Trina put my fing-”

Dean shifted uneasily.

Sam covered his face, then brushed his hair back. “I just floated away.” A semi shook past. “I gave up,” his voice broke. He swallowed and took a breath, “I don’t know if I can live with that.”

Dean flashed back to that night, when he woke bound and helpless. His face was numb, his chest tight. He rubbed his temples and forehead slowly with his left hand, his elbow braced on the door. He breathed and counted.

“Can you drive, Sam?” He turned to his brother. His chin quivered, “Can you take us home?”

Sam sniffled and nodded, “Yeah. I’ll get us home.”

*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was someone out there wishing for angst? I'm going to be busy again for a bit. I'm hoping to write more chapters next week. Feedback is appreciated. :)


	25. Chapter 25

They descended the stairs into the bunker, smoky and tearstained.

Cas rounded the corner, “What happened?”

“Just work,” Dean grunted and moved down the hall. Presumably to shower.

“You okay?”

Sam sidestepped Cas, “Don’t.” He heard Cas sigh as he walked down the steps, toward his room. He dropped his gear and stripped off his outer layers. He found a half empty bottle, unscrewed the cap and tried to ignore the replay of tonight’s clusterfuck. _You wanna die?! You wanna take me with you?!_

He sat on the edge of the bed, studying the label of the bottle. He thought back on his brother getting torn to ribbons and going to hell for him. Maybe now, now that he knew the truth, his brother would finally let him go. He looked around his room, still basically unchanged from Men of Letters standard issue. _He has Cas. He doesn’t need me. I can just go. I can just disappear and he’ll be okay. It’s better this way._

There was a knock on the door.

“Go away, Cas!”

The door started to open. Furious at the intrusion, he stood and threw the bottle. It smashed against the door, leaving a dent and a splatter of brown liquid.

“What the hell?!” Dean pushed the door the rest of the way open, and let go of the towel draped around his neck. His white T clung to him, damp from the shower. He looked at the glass shards on the floor and shook his head. “Clean this up.” He stepped back to continue down to his room.

Sam clenched and released his hands, “You clean it. I’m leaving.” He grabbed his coat, glass crunching under his boots.

Dean grabbed his elbow before he’d made it two steps down the hall. “No, you’re not leaving like this.”

Sam wheeled, fist raised.

“You wanna hit me?” Cas must have appeared behind Sam, because Dean looked past him and shook his head once. “Sammy, don’t do this.”

“Just let me go, Dean.”

“I can’t.”

Sam pulled away, “I’m leaving.” He turned his back to Dean and saw Cas blink out of sight.

“What do you want me to say?” Dean yelled, “You want me to say I’m pissed?! Hell yeah, I’m pissed! _I’d die for you and you couldn’t fight for me?!_  Is that what you want?”

Sam had made it three whole strides. “If I could have died. I would have.” He turned toward his brother, “I wish I _had_ died.”

Dean looked down, working his jaw. He cleared his throat, “I came.” He bit the inside of his lip before continuing. “Twice. What the hell does that make me?”

Sam moved toward him, but Dean shrank back. He looked down at his boots, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Dean leaned against the wall, “You think if we keep saying that, we’ll start believing it?”

“I hope so,” Sam shifted on his feet. Nothing he could think to say made its way past his lips. Dean’s breathing evened out, and his own heart rate slowed to something more familiar and reliable. “I’m gonna get a broom.”

“Yeah, alright.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.” He looked up at his older brother and their eyes met. Dean didn’t smile, but he nodded and Sam could see relief wash over his exhausted face. That’s when he felt it again. Dean wouldn’t ever let him go. _And Sam didn’t want him to._

*****

Sam yawned, stretched, and headed straight for the coffee pot. It was full. He poured himself a cup and frowned at his brother’s absence. Cas apparated and Sam almost dropped his coffee, “Dammit, Cas!”

“Sorry.”

Sam grabbed a paper towel. “Is Dean okay?” He bent, wiped up the spill and threw it in the bin.

“He is resting. Last night he said he was very tired. I made the coffee.”

Sam took a sip, “I can tell.”

“Is it not good?”

“It’s fine, Cas. Dean makes it stronger, that’s all.”

“Ah.”

“I was thinking, maybe it would be nice if we had dinner tonight.”

Cas tipped his head in query, “Out?”

“No, no. Just here. The three of us.”

“Take out?”

“We can, but Dean’s pretty handy in the kitchen, and I think he likes it. We don’t have a case going yet, and unless there’s an emergency, we’ve got some time.”

Cas smiled, “I think he’ll like that.”

Sam sat down at the table, “Did he, uh, say anything last night?”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to disclose... anything.” he sat down opposite Sam.

Sam tossed his hair, “No, yeah, I get it.”

“But I will say that he seems less troubled.”

Sam nodded and drank his coffee.

“As do you,” Cas smiled, satisfied. “Good.”

“Thanks for leaving last night. I know it can’t be easy,” he shifted in his chair. “I know I haven’t been making it easy.”

“It has been difficult to see you suffer.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. He might have said something, but Dean emerged and made his way to the coffee pot, “Mornin’.”

“Mornin’” Sam echoed.

Dean circled around the table and sat next to Cas. Sam could tell he touched Cas’s knee under the table when the angel rose up a bit in his chair. Sam smiled into his cup.

“What’s on the agenda?”

“I was just telling Cas I might make a run into town.”

Dean’s mouth hardened at the corners, but he tried to hide whatever he felt, “Yeah?” He slurped his coffee.

“I thought I’d get us some pork ribs for the grill tonight. How’s that sound?”

Dean’s face opened in a wide smile, “That sounds like heaven.”

“Don’t get too carried away, I’m bringing salad home, too.”

“As long as you bring home ribs, I’ll choke down one of your salads.”

“Deal, but um…”

Dean eyeballed him over the rim of his cup.

Sam continued, “Dinner’s still a ways off. I could go for some scrambled eggs.”

Dean grinned, “Can do. Cas, you want anything?”

“I’m good.” Cas smiled sideways.

“Yes, you are,” Dean returned with a bit of sass, and  kissed him on the lips as he rose. He broke it off awkwardly, aware of Sam’s presence.

Sam reached across and snagged Dean’s cup, “Let me top this off for ya,” he winked at Cas and walked back to the kitchen.

Dean leaned down close to Cas, “Sorry.”

“Sorry you kissed me, or sorry you felt uncomfortable?”

Dean looked up and mentally calculated how screwed he was. He winced. “I’ll do better next time?”

Cas nodded, “Acceptable.”

Dean retreated to start on the eggs.

*****


	26. Chapter 26

Sam came back to the bunker loaded down the paper bags.

“You need a hand with that?” Dean didn’t wait for a response, and took one of the bulky packages.

They set the paper bags down on the counter. Dean eyed one that sounded a lot like a six-pack. Sam reached in and lifted the contents.

“Wine coolers?” Dean scoffed.

“Hard Lemonade. I thought we’d try something different.”

Dean looked like he was going to say something derisive, but changed his mind. “Lemme try one of those.”

“It’s a little early.”

His brother raised his brows and Sam smiled, “Sure.”

They each cracked a bottle and clinked the ends together, finding their way back to a long-standing ritual. They tipped the bottles back, and then peered at the labels.

“Not bad,” Sam shrugged.

“Yeah. It’ll do,” Dean nodded. He put the bottle down on the counter, “What else did you bring me?” He pulled out some white paper packages out of another bag.

Sam took one, “This is chicken for tomorrow. I picked up three pounds of ribs. You think that’ll be enough?” He put the chicken in the fridge.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll get these started.”

“Where’s Cas?” Sam picked up his lemonade and leaned against the counter.

“He’s listening to records.”

Sam smiled, “Dean Winchester School of Rock?”

Dean pulled a roasting pan out of the cabinet and grinned, “Something like that.”

“How, uh, how are you two doing?”

Dean paused unwrapping the meat to look at Sam, wary of any teasing.

“I’m just asking, you don’t have to say.”

Dean ducked behind a cabinet door, surveying the seasonings. He pulled a few out and set them on the counter, “We’re fine.”

“Okay, good,” Sam took another sip. “I’m going down to the range.” He moved toward the stairs.

Dean flipped the lid on the seasoning and paused as an alarm went off in his head. _Watch out for Sammy._ “Sam?”

Sam halted and looked over his shoulder.

“Hey, why don’t you wait a minute? I’ll join you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sam settled back in against the counter, watching his brother prep the ribs. _He must have done this for Lisa and Ben._ Dean forbid Sam to ever speak of them and Sam respected that. His everyday life with Jess, and then Amelia, were chapters in his life that had a dreamlike quality. They were so different from everything else, it was easy not to remember. The good memories could hurt, too.

*****

Dean’s stomach eased from ‘comfortably full’, to just ‘not hungry’. He kicked off his boots and Cas massaged the knots between his shoulder blades. Cas sat behind him on the bed, murmuring about the day; something he heard on a record or YouTube, something Sam said about a book, something he’d like to see someday. He let it wash over him. Cas kissed his neck and he turned into the embrace.

“You aren’t listening,” Cas accused.

“Mhm, I’m sorry,” he kissed him and rested his head on his shoulder. “Will you stay tonight?”

“If you want me to.”

Dean looked at him, amused.

“You want me to.”

“Yes,” he pushed Cas down. “I want you.” He kissed him deeply and pressed his hips to Cas’s. His brother’s question intruded, _How are you two doing?_ His kisses trailed down Cas’s neck. _Is this enough? I’m not enough._ Doubts nibbled at him like a school of fish. He discarded Cas’s tie and worked the buttons of his shirt. He liked unwrapping Cas, getting him down to nothing but skin. He stripped off his jeans. _Not enough._ He pulled off his t-shirt and lay himself down on top of Cas. All the skin-on-skin overwhelmed him and he shivered. Cas’s hands moved up his back, exploring.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” _He knows you’re broken. He’s going to leave._ Dean kissed and nibbled Cas’s neck, working to make him moan. _You know what to do._ He reached between them, his hand closed around Cas’s shaft. Cas’s eyes rolled back and he closed his eyes, rocking into the sensation. Dean moved his kisses lower and lower. He suppressed the apprehension in his gut. Cas opened his eyes to watch Dean lick the head of his cock and take him into his mouth. Cas groaned and his shoulders raised off the bed. Dean moved his hand and head together, encouraged. Cas held onto his shoulders in ecstasy. _That’s it. Just like that. Now deeper._ He fought his gag reflex. Cas grew harder and let go of him to grasp at the bedding, his head pressed hard into the pillows. His slick tasted salty and bitter. _Almost there._ Dean worked him hard and fast. Cas’s body went rigid and he held his breath. Dean felt the pulse but was unprepared nonetheless. He rocked back, his mouth still full. _Do it._ He breathed through his nose to brace himself and swallowed. Cas panted, sweaty and dazed. Dean flopped down beside him, feeling conflicted.

“Dean, that was…” he reached out for his companion and Dean backed into his embrace. Cas breathed into his ear, “That was amazing.”

Dean’s breath caught and his chest spasmed. Cas extracted himself and leaned over him. Dean pressed his face into the pillow, “Don’t.” _I’m not going to cry. I’m not fucking crying._ He clenched his jaw.

Cas put his hand on Dean’s arm and waited.

 _He sees you. He sees how broken you are._ Dean sat up, feet on the floor, elbows on his knees,  and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Just gimme a minute.” He felt the bed shift behind him and heard the rustle of clothing. _See? He’s leaving._  

Cas sat beside him in his t-shirt and underwear. Dean breathed out and let his hands drop loosely between his knees.

Cas put hand on his shoulder tentatively, then put his arm around him. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

“Don’t do that,” Dean stood and faced him. “Don’t you pity me.” His mouth was moving, but he lacked conviction. He looked away.

Cas stood, “I’ve made a mistake. I think I should go.”

Dean looked at him now, the words he’d most feared had a voice.

“Sam was right.”

“Sam? What did Sam say?!”

Cas slid on his shirt, “He said you were hurt and confused and that I needed to be careful. But I didn’t listen. I should have listened.” He grabbed his pants and pulled them on. Dean folded his arms, covering himself. “I didn’t want to listen, because I wanted you to need me. I wanted you to want me the way I want you.”

“Cas, I-”

Cas’s tie hung haphazardly, “I took advantage of you in the worst way.” He searched for his shoes.

“Stop.”

“No, I-” Cas looked under the edge of the bed.

“Will you stop? Please.” Dean grabbed Cas’s upper arms. “Did he also tell you _I’m in love with you?_ ”

Cas’s face opened wide with surprise.

“In Vegas. Before he disappeared. I told him.”

“You told Sam?”

“Yeah, I…” Dean glanced down.

“You love me?”

Dean’s gazed flicked up to the frumpy tie, the tousled hair, and Cas’s blue, blue eyes. “Don’t you know that?”

Cas bashfully replied, “I didn’t.”

“Well, you do now.” Dean let go of him, frowned and rubbed his neck, crossing his arms again, “Now, I know I’m fifty kinds of fucked up, and if you wanna go because of that, go. But don’t you dare blame yourself. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“No,” Cas shook his head.

Dean looked up, shoulders tensed, “I can’t promise anything. Even my good days are shaky at best.”

“Dean, I don’t want to leave you.” The hunter shrugged.  “Do you believe me?”  He touched his forearm and Dean’s arms unlocked. He buried his face in Cas’s shoulder, just breathing him in.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“How come I never feel your wings? Can, uh, humans touch them?”

Cas chuckled and held him tighter, “Perhaps another time.”

*****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is it, folks. It didn't end as fluffy as I expected, but it does end with a wink.


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